One to a Thousand
by EudaimonArisornae
Summary: NOW COMPLETE! Zoro's bad habit of wandering off without telling anyone forces Sanji to set foot on an island all too similar to his own personal hell. Yet while on the island, Zoro exposes the source of some of Sanji's trauma in a way the cook is not ready to handle. Sanji/Zoro. Spoiler warning: post-time skip
1. Chapter 1

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip. There are numerous spoilers including events that occurred during the Thriller Bark arc and Sanji's whereabouts during the two years that the crew was separated.

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**CHAPTER ONE**

The temperate weather felt nearly bone-chilling to Sanji as he leaned casually over the rail of the Thousand Sunny, staring darkly at the mass of land in front of him.

_Coleherne Island_. The crew had only heard a few rumors about it on the way, but he prayed he would never have to set foot in such a place.

It was probably not quite like his hell... Momoiro Island, that nauseatingly pink island, where every last creature seemed oblivious that there was any way to act but exaggeratedly female. Hairy legs, stifling perfume and false eyelashes danced in his mind, and he felt a wave of nausea pass over him.

Coleherne, in contrast, looked much more plain. In fact, in the evening sunlight, it looked completely average. Innocent, almost. The island had a very typical topography, with a town near the shore, and vast wilderness near the island's center. There were no abnormal plants, no giant beasts, and no atrocious-looking buildings. Other than the raucous crowds that seemed to flood the streets, it seemed dreadfully _normal_.

Still, as seemingly innocent as it appeared, Sanji felt an apprehension toward it that seemed to bore down into his very core. He was beyond grateful that there was no need for him to go there. He felt somewhat uneasy about not accompanying Nami and Robin to offer his protection, but he felt confident that they would be sufficiently guarded if there was trouble, as he recalled their earlier exchange.

_"We absolutely have to have the chance to explore this island in peace," Nami said sternly, finger raised, her dark eyes fixed on Sanji as she instructed him._

_"Why of course, Nami-swan," Sanji purred._

_"It's not just marines we have to be careful of here," she continued._

_Robin nodded in agreement. "From the information I've gathered, it seems Coleherne Island has a strict police force in place to deal with unruly visitors."_

_Nami crossed her arms. "I suppose it's necessary. Even from the water, it looks like one big party." She glared in the direction of the shore, her angry expression so cute, Sanji could barely resist dancing around her while showering her with compliments. She was right, though; even from a distance, they could hear loud music and see people carousing in the streets, despite the early hour. Surely by nightfall, the revelries would increase tenfold. "So let's try not to cause any trouble. It'll make things easier for Robin."_

_"Thank you," Robin said, smiling faintly. "Whether it's a poneglyph or something else, there is definitely _something_ of interest here."_

_"I promise I won't let anyone get in your way, Robin-chwan," Sanji said with confidence. He turned in the direction of the lawn deck, where he happened to noticed Zoro was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall and snoring loudly. "Not a soul will leave this ship."_

_"Captain-san will accompany us, so it is only the rest of the crew we're concerned about," said Robin._

_"Yeah, I just hope we can get Luffy through the town without him getting distracted," Nami muttered darkly. But then her expression brightened, her intelligent gaze filled with confidence. "Don't worry, though; I have a plan!"_

_"If it's Nami-swan's plan, it's sure to be okay," Sanji gushed, his sickeningly sweet tone oozing hints of hearts and bubbles. "Leave the rest to me, Robin-chwan, Nami-swaaaan!"_

_"Oiiii, let's go already!" Luffy's piercing shout came from the direction of the dock._

_"Alright, they're in your hands now," Nami called back at Sanji, as the two women dashed off after their captain._

The sun began its descent, and Sanji watched the scene on the shore unfold with growing distaste. As the horizon grew darker, nauseatingly bright lights began to flicker on across the island. By the time the last trace of sunlight disappeared, Coleherne was as bright as daylight itself; fluorescent lights adorned all the streets, and there were even some people who were walking around wearing clothing and jewelry that seemed to glow with the same vibrancy as the rest of the town. Random strings of music resounded through the air all the way to the ship, of every type and genre. If the rumors were true, then the island went on like this all night long, each and every night.

A small knot was beginning to form in his stomach. He took a heavy drag from his cigarette, trying to calm the unsettling feeling deep within him.

Since Nami had decided to take Luffy with them—"_it'll be easier to take him than try to keep him on the ship," _had been her reasoning, which he could not really argue with—Sanji was not particularly worried about the rest of his crew.

Usopp and Chopper were never any concern when it came to getting into trouble; Franky was fixated on a new weapon he was designing, and had barely been seen for the past two days; and Brook had lost all interest to explore the island when he was told it was mainly occupied by men. (_"It's not that there _aren't _women here, but a lot of the women you see are probably really going to be men dressed as women,"_ Nami has explained to him. _"But what if I accidentally get one of them to show me their panties?" _Brook had cried out in horror.)

_Just like hell_, Sanji thought, unconsciously clutching the ship's rail tightly. The knot grew slightly tenser. Gazing at the shore, he could make out the shapes of many people who appeared to be female, but there was no way to be sure. Something more bothered him, as well, but he could not quite put his finger on it... Some remnant of trauma left over from his time on Momoiro Island, for certain. With an involuntary shudder, he turned around and peered back at the lawn deck.

He expected to see the only member of the crew he was slightly concerned about, still leaning against the wall with a stupid look on his face as he openly snored. Sanji knew he had to keep an eye on him more than anyone, since the swordsman had an obnoxious habit of wandering off at inconvenient moments. Even if he had no intention of causing trouble, he frequently wandered into fights, like a brawl had some kind of magnetic attraction that only sucked in idiot marimo brains.

The cigarette nearly fell out of his mouth as he stared at the blank spot on the deck of the ship, where the swordsman had been sleeping just a short while before.

_How?! I've been here the whole damn time… Dammit, that shitty marimo, _Sanji thought angrily, the anxiety in his stomach slowly starting to spread to his chest. Hurriedly, he searched all of the areas of the ship where Zoro was likely to have wandered. As each spot turned up nothing, his concern began to increase exponentially.

Finally, he was forced to come to a difficult conclusion. With a mixture of trepidation and resolve, he turned toward the island. In his eyes, the sparkling lights were more like beacons warning him of imminent danger.

_Dammit… I won't forgive you for making me go back to hell, shitty swordsman_, Sanji thought savagely. With a tremulous sigh, he lit another cigarette. There was no sense in delaying his departure; no amount of time would ever prepare him to willingly step into this place.

The foreboding feeling in the pit of his stomach was beginning to spread more rapidly to other parts of his body... His heart started to pound a bit too harshly, sweat began to form at his brow, and his body felt tense all throughout, akin to how he felt when at any moment he was likely to be attacked.

To go to this island, that was so similar to place he dreaded most… And for it to be in search of _Zoro_ of all people…

He shuddered. That was a thought he could not finish; instead, he buried it deep within him.

Upon arriving at the town, he suspiciously eyed the crowds, which seemed relatively normal. On closer inspection, most of them were groups of men, many in pairs, but the island inhabitants themselves seemed average. There were still a reasonable number of women, as well—and women who were _undoubtedly_ women. He relaxed marginally, his heart still pumping a little too hard, as he proceeded forward, his gaze sweeping the streets for a hint of mossy green.

The town was even brighter walking up and down the streets that it had appeared from the ship. Each restaurant and bar boasted its own unique, dazzling neon light spectacle, as though each establishment was trying to outdo its neighbor. Sanji was shocked to see that even unexpected places were open late into the night—grocers, supply stores, tailors, boutique shops and more.

"I guess this town really doesn't sleep," he muttered under his breath, taking a heavy drag from a cigarette that looked like it had likely been crushed several times before Sanji finally got around to lighting it. Another surprising point was that the town was surprisingly _clean_.

Checking each place was going to prove difficult. The irritating thing about Zoro was that Sanji had no idea what the idiot swordsman was thinking when he wandered off in foreign places. It was a repetitive cycle that happened so damn often—Zoro disappeared without telling anyone; by the time the crew noticed, he had been gone for some time; and eventually, they would find him, usually hours later, lost and nonchalant, in a place that seemed inexplicable for him to even try to go to.

He took another long drag. But it hasn't been hours yet... That shitty marimo hadn't had a chance to go far.

"Stupid bastard," he grumbled aloud, flicking his cigarette butt on the ground and stomping on it angrily. The uneasiness at his core was not dissipating. His instincts were telling him to flee before anything unbearable happened.

He decided a good start was to check out the local bars and taverns to see if he was drinking. It was likely that drinking was the only thing the swordsman would do in the settled part of the island, after all; if he had wandered into the wilderness, it was another story.

At first, Sanji was startled by the sheer number of places to drink, but he quickly figured out that many of them—particularly ones with live music or some kind of theatrical show—charged a fee just to get in the doors, so the cook quickly ruled those out. He could not imagine Zoro handling over any beli just for the luxury of sitting down to drink.

As he entered the fourth bar he passed that wasn't charging a fee at the door, the shapely body of a bartender immediately caught his eye. She was quite a beauty, at least from what he could tell from behind... Long curly hair, round hips, and a narrow waist that she kept tightly tied in a black lace corset.

"Excuse me," Sanji called out to her; he could already feel the stir within him that he always felt when he saw an attractive woman, and it was enough to make him momentarily forget his anxiety. Unthinkingly, he slipped into that charming-yet-borderline-lecherous way of speaking he liked to use with women. "I'm sorry to trouble a beautiful woman such as yourself, but I was wondering if you could help me."

"Of course, honey, what it is?" She asked in a surprisingly throaty voice as she turned around. As Sanji gazed on her face, he felt a small part of himself die inside.

Strong, square jaw line. False eyelashes. A hint of dark stubble beginning to grow on an otherwise smooth face. An adam's apple.

_Newkama_, he barely managed to prevent the word from slipping down from the thought-bubble above his head and escaping out of his mouth. He knew he was supposed to speak, to somehow give a reply, but it was all he could manage to keep himself from choking and falling to his knees.

"Well?" the bartender asked again, batting heavy false eyelashes at him and leaning forward intently, as though very eager to listen to whatever Sanji had to say. "Don't keep me waiting all day, honey."

It took everything Sanji had to reply normally. "H-have you seen a shitty looking man with green hair, three swords, and a stupid expression on his face come through here?"

The bartender laughed flirtatiously; the sound was like nails on a chalkboard to Sanji. With great difficulty, he endured. "My, that's quite a way to describe somebody. I'm afraid not though, someone like that would've definitely stuck out to me."

"I see... Thanks," Sanji blurted out quickly, abruptly turning on his heel and fleeing before he did anything that would give away how shaken he was.

He was indescribably rattled when he got back out of the street. The panic had come back tenfold, and he was already beginning to feel tired and overloaded from being on high alert for so long. He couldn't relax now, though; the second he had let his guard down, he had fallen into a trap.

Nervously, he glanced behind him, a part of him expecting the bartender to be chasing after him, like a wild animal after its prey. He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to his senses. _Just because that happened in hell doesn't mean it will happen here. _

Even more apprehensive than he had been before, Sanji continued his search. As much as he would have loved to have most of his memories from Momoiro Island wiped from his mind, at the moment, he was using them to keep himself sharp. He knew all the telltale signs, and if he had been paying closer attention, he would have surely noticed the real gender of the bartender _before_ he tried to hit on her.

If anything, the event served as a solemn reminder that he was not here to pick up women; he had to locate an idiot swordsman as soon as possible and hurry back to the ship.

_Why do I have to look for that shitty marimo in a place like this, alone… _he thought bitterly, unthinkingly skipping back to the train of thought he had managed to derail earlier; he didn't want to think about _why_ Momoiro Island made him hate this place. Realizing his mistake, he once again tried to push out the thought, and will his palpitating heart to slow its dangerous pace.

He continued weaving in and out of every bar he passed, scanning the crowd for green hair and asking around, although with a bit more caution than before.

At the eleventh bar, he finally found his target. Upon seeing Zoro, for a fleeting second, relief surged through him; he could finally get off this island and experience the abatement of his soaring blood pressure. Yet in the next instance, as he observed the situation Zoro was in, dread consumed him.

Three men had accosted Zoro, and from their posture, it was not difficult to read their intentions. The man nearest Zoro, who had perfect teeth and a blindingly bright pink jacket, smiled at him charmingly, reaching out to the swordsman as he spoke with a gesture of practiced allure, leaning closer and closer to him as he continued to speak.

Sanji clapped a hand against his forehead, grimacing. There was no way the socially-retarded swordsman could excuse himself from a situation like this without turning it into a complete debacle.

Although his fingers twitched in the direction of his katana, Sanji knew the other man would not bother drawing his swords for such a thing. (Besides, if the swordsman was hell-bent on getting into a serious fight, even Sanji doubted he could stop him.) However, from the way the vein in Zoro's forehead twitched, Sanji was fearful about what other idiotic thing the marimo might do to get the three men to back off.

At first Sanji broke into a run, but then Nami's voice popped into his head, and he realized he needed to take a different approach.

_"If any one of us does something reckless like start fighting, they're going to try to kick us off the island. If that happens, it's going to make it really difficult for Robin."_

Nami and he both knew that, if the crew was really not ready to leave, it would probably be unlikely that the island police force—no matter how well-reputed they were—would be able to make the Strawhat pirates go anywhere. However, Nami wanted to be able to search for whatever item Robin was seeking uninterrupted; that's why she was taking every precaution to ensure there was not any trouble this time around. (It was probably likely that Nami hoped to find treasure accompanying whatever Robin was seeking, but that was nothing unusual.)

Sanji did not want to be the one to disappoint either woman. He was angry at Zoro for wandering off, but _he_ was the one Nami had asked to keep the situation under control. If he let a fight break out right now, it would be his fault for not preventing it.

It was unlikely more than a scuffle would ensue, but even that much could be troublesome. He racked his brain to find a solution to diffuse the situation without turning it into a total fiasco. Unfortunately, the cook was not much of an ideas person, and only one idea came to mind that he thought was plausible.

For a moment, his breath caught in his throat. It was too close to the thing he wanted to avoid even _thinking_ about—but as Zoro's posture became noticeably more rigid, he knew there wasn't any more time to brainstorm.

"Seriously?" he growled at himself lowly, truly outraged at his own brain. Even if he feared the basis for the idea was that thing he had kept locked up deep inside, he had to ignore it and move forward. There was no more time: he was only a short distance from Zoro and the three other men, Zoro was starting to open his mouth to say something that was sure to be completely abominable, and if the cook's plan was going to work, he was going to need to focus. Really, really focus.

Taking a deep breath, he sauntered up to Zoro with the most confident, casual walk he could muster. A flicker of surprise crossed the swordsman's face, and whatever presumably awful words he was about to say died on his lips.

_It's too late to go back now._

Resolutely, Sanji stepped past the other three men until he was standing directly in front of Zoro, facing the slightly baffled-looking swordsman head-on. Holding his still-lit cigarette slightly away from his body in his right hand, he grabbed Zoro by the jaw with his free hand and leaned inward, until their foreheads just barely touched. He imagined that, to the three men standing behind him, it looked like he was doing something _more_ than just touching foreheads.

"Listen," Sanji growled under his breath. "We can't cause any trouble here. Play along with me for two damn seconds." As he spoke, their lips were so close, he could feel the other man's hot breath on him. Although Zoro did not respond or make any gesture indicating he would play along, he did not protest either. Something about his intensely close gaze made Sanji take in a ragged breath, but there was no time for him to worry about that right now. He had a part to play.

The cook pulled his head away, casually leaning against Zoro's body, and turned to face the other men. He wasn't sure if it was the warmth of the swordsman's body on him, or the onerous situation, or maybe that _something else_ he desperately needed to ignore, but his pounding heart felt like it was about to accidentally burst out of his chest in a bloody mess onto the three men who were staring at him in awe.

As he spoke, Sanji delicately ran his fingers through Zoro's hair, contorting his face into the most charming expression he could muster. "Sorry, but you're going to have to find someone else. You see..." he started, leaning down and smiling coyly as he assertively wrapped an arm around Zoro's neck while he pressed his body against his arm. "... He belongs to me."

"Tch, then he should've said something sooner," one of the men in the background scoffed, a hint of irritation in his voice.

Pink-jacket-man smiled mischievously. "No harm... you can both come play with us, if you want," he mused, lecherously eyeing Sanji up and down. Something that may have been a tremor shuddered through the cook's body; he was sure that Zoro must have felt it, given their close proximity.

_There's no time to worry about that_, he reminded himself again, forcing himself to carry onward.

Visibly tightening his grip around Zoro, Sanji somehow managed to maintain a calm expression as he casually shook his head from side to side. "Sorry, I've never been very good at sharing my things." He prayed that the swordsman could not feel his pounding heart as he continued to press his chest against him.

Pink-jacket-man nodded. "Mmm, fair enough. Well, I suppose we'll take our leave, then," he waved a hand in farewell and sauntered off, the two other men in tow. To Sanji's chagrin, they did not go far, however; rather, they seated themselves at a table just a short distance from the two pirates.

The silent scream in his head was becoming harder to ignore as he tried his best to casually remove his arm from around Zoro. Worried his knees might fail, he grabbed the bar stool next to Zoro and uneasily took a seat. He could _feel_ eyes on him, and he knew the table of three was undoubtedly observing them.

He turned backward to glare at the trio for a moment, territorially scooting his stool a bit closer to the swordsman.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Zoro asked.

_Why the hell do you think,_ Sanji wanted to scream; or better yet, he wanted to collapse on the floor in a motionless heap until he eventually melted into the ground and ceased to exist in this world. Still, he did his best to put on a tantalizing smile—because although the three men could not hear him, they undoubtedly were still watching—as he responded. "I promised Nami-swan I'd keep you out of trouble."

"I wasn't doing anything that would get me into trouble," Zoro scoffed, taking a swig of his drink.

"Do you remember where we are? Just what the hell were you about to do to men who were just flirting with you?!" he uttered, in a sort of shouting-whisper.

"It's not like I was going to seriously fight them," Zoro replied.

"I know you weren't going to fight them, but I didn't know what the hell else you might do."

"Tch, I was just going to threaten them to leave."

"Did you try _asking_ first?" It was taking every ounce of energy Sanji had to keep the fake smile plastered on his face.

"I said 'no,' but they still kept asking me to come join them."

"Who threatens someone over that?" Sanji barked in a whisper, leaning in closer to the swordsman, still trying to maintain a pleasant expression. It was becoming more difficult. He was starting to feel lightheaded; he wondered just how long it had been since his heart had started beating at such a breakneck pace.

"You're too close," Zoro glared.

"They're still right there," Sanji whispered. "I don't want to be this close to you either. Can we hurry up and go?" He asked, leaning in and lightly touching his arm as he spoke; only for the sake of making the charade more believable, he reminded himself.

Zoro made a move to yank his arm away, but the cook's eyes flashed anger. "Don't do it, shitty marimo," he growled, squeezing Zoro's arm slightly more firmly. "When we get out of here, we can drop this."

"Tch. Let me finish my drink, ero-cook."

"Are you serious? You'd rather sit here with me grabbing on your arm like I'm your damn girlfriend than leave half a glass of beer?"

"It won't take me long to finish it," he replied.

"Shitty swordsman... If you need to have a beer that badly, let's go somewhere else."

Immediately, Sanji regretted his words. _Why the hell did I say that? We need to get back to the Sunny_. Keeping up his cheerful_, couple_ facade was getting harder by the moment.

Such an uncomfortable situation, such a dreadful place, such awful company… It wasn't hell, but Coleherne Island had just enough elements similar to Momoiro Island to make Sanji's anxiety reach a near-crippling level. It was that similarity, and that _something else_ that seemed to be creeping to the surface. Desperately, Sanji tried to force the feeling back down. He could not let the idea surface; not now, not ever.

And he felt far too conscious about his hand on the swordsman's arm.

_Just ignore it, it doesn't matter_, he tried to convince himself.

To his chagrin, Zoro was surprisingly agreeable to the suggestion to drink elsewhere. "Alright," he nodded, rising to his feet.

Unexpectedly, Zoro grabbed the hand resting on his arm as he stood up, clutching it tightly. It was Sanji who almost dropped the farce at that moment, paralyzed by the feeling of the strong hand clutching his, barely able to contain his expression of shock and panic. But no matter how hard it was, he had to hold back; they were acting a part, after all.

His hand still interlaced with Sanji's, Zoro used his free hand to grab the half-empty tankard on the table. He downed its contents in one swig.

"Oi, if you're going to finish it, we don't need to go somewhere else."

"Then I'll stay here," Zoro replied, grinning as he leaned in far too close to Sanji's face for comfort. The cook felt far too conscious of the calloused hand tightly holding his. They were both strong, but much of Zoro's power relied on his hands; he wondered if he would actually be able to pull away if he tried.

"Fine, let's go," Sanji muttered, a clenched jaw hidden behind his forced smile. As they passed the table of the three men, Sanji glanced over and saw each man was staring at them. With his last ounce of effort, he possessively tucked his arm in the crook of Zoro's arm. He felt all too aware of the sensation of the excessively muscular bicep, intertwined tightly with his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip. References to several previous arcs and events.

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**CHAPTER TWO**

The short walk out of the bar felt impossibly long. Sanji knew that he was surely at his limit.

When they finally reached the street, Sanji hurriedly released his grip on Zoro's arm and bent over, inexplicably out of breath.

Zoro furrowed his brow at him. "Oi, what the hell is wrong with you? You look like you're about to drop."

"I'm fine," Sanji snapped, but in reality, his head was swimming. A little rest was all he needed, probably. And to get the hell out of that dreadful place.

"You look pretty stupid for being fine," Zoro muttered.

He didn't feel like retorting. Of the many hardships Sanji had encountered in his life, for some reason, the damage that had been done from his two years at Momoiro Island affected him the most. He thought he had learned to deal with it, but the last hour or so he had spent on this island was surely proving that notion wrong. Maybe he could have been okay if he had just found Zoro sitting by himself, and after a drink or two, persuaded him to come back to the ship with no trouble.

_Is that really it?_ he suddenly asked himself.

And that was the thing he hated to consider the most. After all, if that was truly the case, then why did that act—that stupid performance he had just put on, because he couldn't come up with a better plan on the spot—push him over his limit? That wasn't really the same as the horrors of Momoiro Island, but the reason he felt that way was surely from the island's influence…

But he didn't want to think about that incomprehensible—no, _unspeakable_—reason. He had to submerge it deep within him, to drown it completely, and pin his hopes on it never rising to the surface again.

As the two men leisurely walked down the busy street, Sanji felt like he could not quite catch his breath. Even outside, he felt like the open space was closing in on him. He realized he must have looked pretty terrible, because at some point, he became aware of the other man glancing at him every few moments.

As Sanji observed out of the corner of his eye, he realized the reason the head-turns were so conspicuous; Zoro was walking on his right side, so his permanently closed eye was nearest him. The swordsman was probably trying to be subtle, but there was no way he could see Sanji without a blatant turn of his head.

"Oi, are you trying to check me out or something, shitty swordsman?" Sanji asked with irritation.

"Tch, you just look like you're going to fall over. You lose too much blood when you saw some women on this island earlier, nosebleed?" Zoro retorted.

"That hadn't happened to me in a long time!" Sanji protested. He clutched his temple as he took a heavy drag on his cigarette; the swordsman could not have picked a more distressing nickname to call him at the moment. The root of that nickname was too closely associated to the trauma he was trying to ignore currently. Or at least, a part of it.

"Seriously, you look awful."

"So do you!" Sanji spat. "Besides, I'm perfectly fine."

"If you pass out, I'm not carrying you," Zoro warned.

Sanji opened his mouth to reply, but then he met with a stroke of bad luck: the normally sure-footed man tripped over something just as he was turning to look at the other pirate.

_What the hell was that?! _he thought angrily as he unceremoniously fell onto his knees, one hand slamming against the ground, bracing his fall. On impact, his cigarette flew out of his mouth and rolled a distance away from him. Irritated, he glanced behind him.

_A shoe? Who the hell loses a whole _shoe _and just leaves it there?_

Yet as he glanced around, he realized the majority of the people walking around were noticeably inebriated, despite the early hour, so maybe it wasn't so surprising.

What definitely did surprise him, though, was the strong arm suddenly reaching under his arms and behind his back, effortlessly pulling him upright. His heart skipped and a drop of sweat rolled down his brow.

"Oi, what are you doing?!" he protested loudly, angrily glaring at the swordsman. "I'm alright, I just tripped."

That, at least, was the truth; as unsteady as he had felt, his knees had not actually failed him... yet.

The green-haired man did not loosen his grip, however. "Let's go in here," he said, nodding at the obnoxiously bright, blinking sign of another bar they were about to pass. Without waiting for an answer, he headed to the doorway, dragging Sanji along with him.

He tried to pull away, but there was no escaping Zoro's strength. Maybe the swordsman had an actual good intention by bracing him as they walked, but the feeling of the other man's strong arm wrapped around him was actually making him feel even worse.

"One drink and we leave," Sanji insisted. As his eyes swept the interior of the bar, he noted with dismay that there was certainly nothing odd about them sauntering inside practically in each other's arms. Of all of the bar's occupants, Sanji noticed at least two dozen couples and only five women—four of them seated together near the entrance, chatting boisterously with an assortment of empty bottles on their table, and the fifth seated at the bar leaning in closely to another man. On closer inspection, however, Sanji was not one hundred percent certain of Bar-woman's actual gender.

He tensed slightly, and Zoro glanced at him, responding by tightening his grip around Sanji.

They finally found an empty table near the back, and with relief, Sanji felt the strong arm finally release him and pull away.

"Wait here, I'll grab something from the bar," Zoro told him, turning around with an air of nonchalance that was really starting to piss Sanji off. How could that shitty swordsman be so damn calm about his surroundings, when he felt like he couldn't even remember the last time his heart rate was normal?

Holding his head in his hands, he leaned forward on the surprisingly clean table and closed his eyes. His body felt like a rubber band that, after being wound so tightly, became so tangled it could no longer unravel itself once it was let go. His thoughts were so jumbled, he could barely sort out serious problems from petty annoyances that were plaguing him.

The sudden _thunk_ of a heavy glass being set on the table made him jolt upright.

"What the hell," he muttered, lifting his head away from his hands to glare at the swordsman.

"What?" Zoro asked, ungracefully flopping himself in the chair across from him.

Sanji furrowed his brow. "Nothing," he said, realizing that there was no reason to get pissed off at him for simply setting down a drink. He reached out and grabbed the glass, noting it was some kind of lager. Not a surprise that Zoro would just order whatever for him, even at a place where there were clearly ample options. Gingerly, he took a sip, expecting the usual swill Zoro tended to drink.

Sanji was stunned as the drink met his tongue. The flavor was surprisingly complex, with a sudden rush of subtle bitter and sweet flavors coming to his tongue. Momentarily, Sanji found himself completely fixated on the taste. "Oi, this is actually good. What is it?"

Zoro shrugged. "I don't know, I asked them what kind of drink somebody who's snooty about how things taste would like to have. They gave me some long explanation about it, something about aging in a whiskey barrel."

"I see, that makes sense," Sanji nodded, taking another sip. "It's really faint, but it comes out. It's a little ashy, but there's a sort of dark sugar taste there, too..."

Zoro gave him a condescending look. "I have no idea what the hell you're saying, ero-cook."

"Tch, you have no sense of what's good and bad," Sanji glared.

Suddenly, the bubble of distraction around him burst; how the hell could he relax and try to pick out the flavors of a beer when he was in this kind of place? No matter how good the lager was, he was in a situation that was far too deep for him to overlook. The rush of panic flooded his chest again.

With a shaky hand, he reached for a cigarette.

"Oi..." Zoro muttered, leaning forward slightly and furrowing his brow at Sanji once again. "You're really pale."

Sanji remained silent, leaning back in his chair and taking a long drag on his cigarette. "You're imagining things. Just finish your drink and let's go, shitty marimo." Sanji hoped the din of the bar hid the slight quaver in his voice.

The keen stare from the green-haired man told him that it didn't.

Sanji grit his teeth in annoyance. Most of the time, the shitty swordsman was completely oblivious to everything around him, but sometimes he could be aggravatingly perceptive. Sanji took a troubled sip from the glass.

"I think I'm gonna want another," Zoro announced.

"What are you, a brat? I told you _one_ and then we go back to the Sunny," Sanji barked. "Besides, you've only had a couple of sips, how can you know you already want another one?"

Zoro shrugged lackadaisically. "I just do."

"We're leaving after this."

"Tch. If you can't make it back, I'm not carrying you," Zoro told him for the second time that night.

Two things happened as he said those words. First, the swordsman's motives became clear to Sanji; he didn't want to admit he was concerned for Sanji, so he posed it as selfishly wanting to stay for more drinks.

But the second thing that happened was that Sanji's already shaky emotional plane violently spun out of control. With a flash of temper, he sputtered off his reply without thinking.

"Don't you get it, shitty marimo?" he raised his voice, slamming a hand on the table loudly. "It's going to get worse the longer I stay in this shitty place, that's why I want to get back to the Sunny as soon as possible."

Zoro stared back at him calmly, taking a sip of his drink. "Why's that?"

A rush of pink flooded his pale cheeks. He hadn't really wanted to give Zoro any hints about what was bothering him; in fact, he didn't even want the swordsman to know he was actually feeling troubled, but clearly he was already too far past that point. Zoro was the last person he wanted to know about this, particularly because of that unspeakable reason that Sanji was trying to bury before it became a tangible thought in his head.

So he simply didn't respond, and Zoro did not repeat his question. There seemed to be a slight shift in his demeanor, but Sanji could not quite identify what was different beyond the silence. Eventually, he stopped trying to.

As they finished their drinks, Sanji could not even tell if it was comfortable or uncomfortable, as he was just anxiously awaiting when they could leave. He did notice that Zoro downed his drink rather quickly, so that it was actually he who finished last. For a moment, he wondered if Zoro was rushing for his sake, because he said he needed to leave quickly… but that was probably giving him way too much credit.

When Sanji took the last sip, Zoro rose to his feet before he could even set the glass down on the table. "Well?" he asked with an impatient, indignant tone, as though Sanji was the one who had unwillingly dragged him into the bar in the first place, and not the reverse.

With a twitch, Sanji rose to his feet. He was going to retort, but a sudden rush of lightheadedness distracted him. _Maybe that drink was a bad idea_, he realized. A single drink shouldn't have had any effect on him, really, but he had already been feeling bad...

He had to at least pretend to be fine, though. Focusing all of his efforts on acting out that pretense, he led the way outside, glancing behind him every few seconds to make sure the swordsman had not wandered off—or somehow, managed to get lost in the small bar. Not that it would be the first time something so ridiculous had happened.

Back on the street, Sanji cast his gaze toward the sea, which seemed utterly black beyond the blindingly bright lights of their surroundings. He could not make out any ships, but he knew the Sunny was out there, and that as long as they made no further divergences, he would have this awful place behind him forever in a matter of minutes.

Zoro walked next to him, a bit more closely than he cared for, but since it was crowded, it was probably better so he wouldn't lose him.

A tall, plump woman wearing a purple dress that was several sizes too small for her accidentally bumped into Sanji as she backed away from a man she had been speaking to.

"Ooh, pardon me!" the woman cried out, turning toward Sanji.

Sanji started to open his mouth to reply to her, but as he gazed upon her face, he experienced a shock similar to the one he had felt earlier: it was another newkama.

Momentarily stunned, Sanji could neither reply nor move. The accumulated stress and anxiety of the night had finally become too much to bear, and this final occurrence was simply more than the cook could take. A puzzled expression crossed the newkama's heavily made-up face, and she started to ask Sanji another question.

It was Zoro who actually saved him. "Don't worry about it," he said quickly. Sanji felt an arm slide in behind the small of his back, shoving him forward before the newkama had time to say whatever question had been forming on her lips. Instead of continuing down the main street, the swordsman took him on a detour down a dark alley, away from the crowds. Even as the powerful arm pushed him forward, Sanji wondered why he allowed himself to be led there.

The alley was narrow, but long. There were trash cans, crates and boxes scattered throughout it, but like the rest of the island, it was unexpectedly clean.

When they were away from the crowd, Zoro roughly shoved him forward. For the second time that night, Sanji felt himself tumble onto his knees.

The shock and pain that ensued snapped Sanji back to attention. "What the hell was that for, shitty swordsman?!" he cried out.

"Tell me what the hell's going on with you," Zoro demanded.

Glaring at him, Sanji rose to his feet. This time, at least, he had managed to keep his teeth clamped on his cigarette as he fell, and he puffed on it angrily. "I'm alright, I just need to get the hell out of here and—"

"That's bullshit," Zoro interrupted, his low voice calm but menacing. "Not a damn thing has happened to you on this island, but you're acting like this is the most dangerous place you've ever been."

"I have my reasons," Sanji replied darkly. His reasons were getting harder to define as each second ticked by, however. His encounter with Purple-dress-newkama left him shaken, but being pulled into this deserted alley made the anxiety in his chest skyrocket. With great effort, he tried his best to match Zoro's angry glare without showing any signs of his inner turmoil.

"Spending two years on an island of cross-dressers _by choice_ is not a damn reason," Zoro boomed.

Sanji's jaw dropped opened as he blankly stared at the swordsman, obviously caught off guard. Then his expression darkened. "Tch, you went and said it," he muttered.

Maybe he should not have been surprised that Zoro had figured out he was rattled by seeing the newkama, but he hadn't expected to be called out on the one thing he did not like to admit when he spoke of his hellish two years: he didn't ask to _go_ to Momoiro Island, but he did choose to _stay_ there until he reunited with the crew. It was like he had asked to take on his trauma himself. Even the unexpected parts…

"Why the hell do you care, marimo?" Sanji asked after a long pause, unable to mask his frustration.

"Because you seem so _weak_."

The revolt in his voice as he pronounced the word _weak_ made Sanji flinch, but he didn't have the energy to fight back the way he normally would. Any other day, he probably would have lashed out. They would back gotten into a violent altercation, and yelled and cursed at each other for awhile until they felt content.

But at that moment, Sanji could have cared less about Zoro's declaration of his weakness.

_It's nothing new. He always brags he's stronger than me anyway_, Sanji thought bitterly. He knew he should have been angrier… After all, Zoro had not said he was weak compared to him; he had said he was weak, as in weak in general. Surely in a couple of hours, his blood would boil at the remembrance of it, but right now, he was ready to throw into the towel before they even got started.

Sanji could see the handwriting on the wall—if they continued like this, the foreboding sensation he had had all night would surely come to fruition. He wasn't ready to face the thing he wanted to hide away most of all.

He tossed his cigarette butt on the ground and stomped it out forcefully. Turning back toward the main street, he called back over his shoulder, "Why don't you wait till we get back to the Sunny to call me names? Come on, let's go."

A hand grabbed his arm, violently wrenching him around, and Sanji felt himself being forcefully held in place.

"Oi, I just called you weak. Didn't you hear me?" Zoro asked fiercely.

"Yeah, yeah," Sanji muttered with forced nonchalance. He felt all too aware of the two strong hands that were now firmly gripping his shoulders, forcing him to face the green-haired man. "And I said, save it for when we get back to the ship."

"What the hell?" Zoro said lowly, his face twisted into a deep scowl. The grip tightened, almost painfully squeezing Sanji's shoulders.

"We'll deal with whatever bullshit you're spouting later."

A brief flicker of affliction crossed Zoro's face. "Tch. if you were actually strong, you wouldn't need help from me to overcome your weaknesses."

"Who the hell says I need your help for anything?!" Sanji shot back. He started to shove Zoro's arms away.

Yet Zoro did not release his grip, and that same troubled expression momentarily appeared on his face again… but it was immediately replaced by something else entirely, something far more confident and unwavering. "You need something, since you can't seem to figure out anything yourself," he said firmly.

And then, even more firmly than the tone of his voice, the swordsman crushed his lips against Sanji's.

All of the rapid palpitations of his heart that he had been feeling since he came to Coleherne Island seemed insignificant to the uncontrollably reckless and erratic beat that followed. That unspeakable emotion that he had desperately tried to submerge rushed to the surface, threatening to burst out of the murky waters of his subconscious. Sanji trembled at the implication of it, desperately trying to banish it back to where it belonged.

Yet, he didn't pull back.

Oblivious to Sanji's inner turmoil, Zoro pressed on. Much like his fighting style, his kiss was direct, precise, and fueled with passion. Already feeling the twinge of remorse in his stomach, Sanji finally responded, meeting the fiery kiss expectantly, tiny murmurs of pleasure escaping as the swordsman deepened the kiss.

After an impossibly lengthy moment, Zoro pulled away, but did not release his firm hold around the other man's body. "Now tell me," he said, a bit breathlessly.

"What?" Sanji asked, still feeling a bit dumbstruck.

"What the hell is wrong with you right now?"

_That you just kissed me, to start_, Sanji thought with irritation, glaring at Zoro.

"I'm waiting."

Sanji closed his eyes. _Don't make me say it, shitty swordsman. _All of the things that had happened to him on Momoiro Island… What being there had done to him… He couldn't talk to _him_ about it.

"I don't like places like this," he responded lamely.

"Hnn? What, because there are a bunch of men getting together?"

"N-not that alone," Sanji replied hesitantly.

"That there are men dressed like women?"

He nodded affirmatively; it was definitely a part of it. He prayed that was all Zoro had picked up on. But apparently today, his prayers would be left unanswered, as the next question was the one he dreaded most.

"That you didn't actually mind hanging off of me in that bar?" As he formed the words, the green-haired man stared at him with an intense gaze that made him want to shrink away from him.

"Wh-wh-what the hell are you talking about, you shitty marimo?!" he shouted, a bit too angrily. "Of course I didn't want to do that!" But Sanji knew it was already futile to react that way; after all, Zoro had already kissed him, hadn't he? And hadn't he kissed back eagerly, too? It was too late, and it was getting harder and harder to drown the revelation he wasn't ready to face.

And then, his legs finally decided to fail him, buckling as he fell toward the rough pavement.

A flash of inhuman speed, and then he felt that same muscular arm that had needlessly supported him earlier wrap around his upper body, stopping him before he hit the ground.

"Stupid ero-cook," Zoro muttered at him, guiding him over to one of the crates for him to sit on.

"Oi, I'm fine, let me go," Sanji protested loudly. Though his knees had briefly felt like they had turned to jelly, it was only a momentarily lapse. Still, Zoro forced him to take a seat on the crate; meanwhile, Sanji tried to ignore the feeling of the swordsman's warm body against his own.

Once Sanji was seated, Zoro leaned back against the wall next to him, blankly staring ahead, not speaking. Sanji glowered at him. He truly pissed at just how keenly the normally dense swordsman had seen through him—and yet, he still did not want to admit he was right.

It wasn't too late to put it behind them, though; he had to stop the progression of whatever was about to happen.

He wasn't ready to admit to himself just how gratifying that kiss had been. Maybe that was why the first idea he had to diffuse the earlier situation at the bar was to pretend they were lovers; maybe it was why the thought of sitting with him a bar, in an island mostly frequented by male couples, made him feel unbearably enxious; and it was surely why, even now that he had no idea what to do next, he unconsciously pressed his hand to his still-tingling mouth, remembering the forceful kiss that had been there just moments before.

"I'll do it again, if you want," Zoro said, snapping him back to attention. When he realized he had been tracing the lines of his lips, he thrust his hands into his pockets with embarrassment.

"Shut up, shitty marimo," he muttered weakly, no bite behind his insult.

With a heavy sigh, Zoro took a step closer to Sanji, plopping himself next to him on the narrow crate—the crate that had just enough room for a single person to sit comfortably. Once again, he felt the other man's body far too close to his.

"Oi, what the hell?" Sanji snapped, alarmed not only by the closeness, but also by the familiarity of Zoro doing such an action.

"What?" he asked casually, glancing at Sanji out of the corner of his eye.

His heart fluttered even as the vein in his temple throbbed with irritation. The green-haired man's aloofness was so damn irritating.

"A-about what you just asked me about. When you said weak—" Sanji started, not quite able to bring himself to say 'I'm weak' when he asked the question, "—which one of those things did you think was weak?"

Zoro raised an eyebrow. "Hnn, isn't all of it weak? You can't get over something bad that happened to you by yourself, or even figure out what the hell is bothering you. It's pathetic, if you ask me." He slightly turned his body, to be able to look at him more directly—Sanji felt like they were now even closer together, somehow.

It was Zoro's final statement that delivered the fatal blow, however. "I think the worst thing is how you're somehow trying to act like two things that aren't unrelated, are."

"Eh, what's unrelated?" he asked, his confusion clearly spelled out on his face.

Zoro scowled, his brow twitching with irritation. "Whatever the hell you went through in that place that made you a nosebleed who's scared shitless at a man in high heels, and this."

As he uttered the word _this_, Sanji felt the side of the swordsman's hand lightly brush against the edge of his pinky. Automatically, he yanked his hand back in surprise, the electricity of the touch making his heart kick into a faster gear.

Sanji's head spun. Were the two things unrelated? Wasn't it the two years of his mind being poisoned that made him feel this way about… about Zoro, another man?

"Maybe if I dressed up like a woman first, they'd be related, but since this came first, you've messed up."

_This came first? Is he talking about…_

Then firm hands reached up, grabbing his face, and he felt himself being pulled into another kiss. This kiss was much gentler, though, and somehow tinged with nostalgia.

_Ah, that's right…_

That shitty swordsman had cut right to the root of the problem, exposing the nerve and all of the secrets Sanji wanted to hide.

The efforts he had taken to pile on layers protecting it, to bury all of the feelings and memories… Sanji believed that by never speaking of it again, it might have faded away into nothing, like it never existed. But now, it was there, in boldface-type, permanently etched into his history.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip. References to several previous arcs and events. Heavy spoilers from the end of the Thriller Bark arc, particularly chapter 485/episode 377.

* * *

**CHAPTER THREE**

Zoro's nostalgic kiss forcibly dredged up all of the memories that Sanji had beseeched his mind to forget countless time over the years. Even now, they remained far too vivid and painful… yet he couldn't help but reflect as their lips softly pressed together.

* * *

_After the battle was over at Thriller Bark… After Bartholomew Kuma's mysterious disappearance while everyone was unconscious from his shockwave… That day, Sanji felt a feeling in his chest unlike any other._

_What was he supposed to do? He'd witnessed something he wasn't supposed to see; to almost see the life of a crewmember snuffed out in front of him (or rather, to miss the crucial moment, due to his own weakness), and to find him barely on his feet, dripping in blood._

_No, _bathed_ in blood._

_Who wouldn't feel some kind of sympathetic despair toward the man? Even if they never got along, they never really hated one another, either. Their mutual animosity toward each other, partly sparked by a ridiculous rivalry and by incompatible traits._

_Isn't it normal to feel like his heart had been crushed, as he watched an indomitable spirit hanging between life and death, anxiously watching the hours tick by to see if he would ever awaken? They were all shaken, certainly, but only Sanji knew the truth behind why he had become that way._

_Only he knew it was out of self-sacrifice and not his usual bull-headed notion of fighting whatever strong thing was in front of him. That it hadn't been in a blaze of glory, but rather, in an obscure, joyless encounter, in which the swordsman did not even raise his sword to fight back.  
_

_The despair of knowing he was too weak to take it on himself; his pathetic attempt to step in and take the swordsman's place. Even now, he could not rationalize why he did it, but just hearing the man talk about sacrificing his life for his nakama made him want to stand in his place. After all, what was his life worth, his ambitions, compared to the rest of them?_

_Barely able to stand, barely able to take in a breath, he had pathetically tried to make his trembling legs stand. He could still feel the pain in his ribs, where the hilt of Zoro's sword had surely cracked his ribs. _

_The ire and the desperate fear as he clutched at the other man's arm as his consciousness started to fade. The terrifying revelation that he may never see him again, as the world around him slipped into darkness._

_When Sanji awoke, there was room for nothing else in his mind but the swordsman. Frantic and despondent, he forced his aching, useless body to stand, to hurry and find him. _

_And when he was found, the relief in his chest barely lasted a single heartbeat, as he saw the state the swordsman was in. The blood-soaked man could only speak enough to firmly tell him nothing had happened. When his knees finally buckled and he nearly fell to a heap, Sanji someone managed to keep him upright with his pathetic, useless body, and distraughtly rush him to Chopper, all the while praying that he would not die of blood loss before they got there._

How can there be so much blood? _ he thought over and over. And then the swordsman's life was in someone else's hands, and there was nothing he could do but wait and try to pretend he wasn't torn completely inside out. To act natural. Nonchalant. The thoughts in his mind carried a much greater desperation than they should have, and he knew there was something abnormal about the way he was thinking, but the thought of Zoro dying filled him with uncontrollable trepidation._

_After all, doesn't everyone have a moment where they confuse caring for someone as something more?_

_Doesn't everyone drop their guard, every once in awhile?_

_When coherent thoughts finally began to form in Sanji's head again, these were the form they took. The egregiously injured Zoro, who slept for far too long as he recovered, looked worse than he had ever seen. Even Chopper admitted he barely survived._

_And only Sanji knew why. Perhaps the crew would have liked to know the sacrifice he nearly made, but for Zoro's sake, he kept his mouth shut and prayed none of the other residents of Thriller Bark told them of what happened. (Their newest crewmember knew as well, but Sanji felt that he would keep silent; just a gut feeling.)_

_They could not know, especially Luffy, because the pain of knowing they all knew the truth would probably be worse for Zoro than taking on all of the pain and fatigue from Luffy's fight. It wasn't what Zoro would have wanted; he understood, because he felt the same way._

_If he had avoided Zoro's blow to his ribs, would it have turned out differently? Could he have shared in that pain with him? Could he have spared Zoro from it? (Why did he so desperately want to?)_

_After what felt like an eternity of waiting, when Zoro's eyes finally fluttered open, Sanji tried his best to keep up his usual act. A biting comment. A subtle insult. Maybe a non-so-subtle insult. The tiniest tell that he was glad he was okay, but he couldn't be direct. He could never let the other man know the anguish he had been going through and the uncertainty he felt in his own mind. Besides, whenever he saw Zoro, someone else was always around, so it was easy to act like he always had._

_And there would be no point of having any other kind of interaction with him, anyway; he was okay now. And hopefully—no, probably—the fluttery feelings of sympathy in Sanji's chest would dissipate in a day or two. And mostly, they did, or at least he was able to ignore them for the most part._

_Until they came crashing back down in full force._

_Chopper had asked Sanji to bring Zoro something to eat. It was late, long past supper, but Chopper noticed that Zoro was awake when he last checked on him. Since the swordsman had had so many days of not being able to eat solid food, now that he could, it was important for him to be well-nourished. Sanji hadn't minded complying; he was, after all, the ship's cook, and he already had some of the biting comments he would make to the green-haired man prepared in his mind._

_Yet upon opening the door, he saw that the idiot marimo had tried to move around even though he was supposed to stay in bed. As the swordsman nearly collapsed, so had Sanji's resolve._

_"Stupid bastard!" Sanji bellowed, while in a fluid motion, gracefully setting down his tray on a table near the door and leaping forward to stop the other man from tumbling to the ground._

_"Why the hell are you here, ero-cook?" Zoro asked. Despite the fact that he had just saved him from falling (and potentially reopening his innumerable wounds), the swordsman somehow managed to give him a dirty look, as though he had thwarted his intentional plummet to the ground._

_Sanji was seething with anger. He was so pissed off, he almost wanted to throttle the shitty marimo into the wall. With his injuries, he just may not have gotten back up again, he thought with a strange sense of satisfaction._

_But instead, all he could do was tremble. Clenching his jaw, he gingerly held the other man upright by hooking his own arms under Zoro's. He didn't really know where else to grab; there were wounds over so much of his body, and he had so many broken ribs, he felt like he might break anything he touched._

_"Just shut up and tell me how I can get you back to the bed without making anything worse," Sanji muttered, looking downward, not wanting to make eye contact with the green-haired man._

_A hand startlingly full of strength reached forward and grasped his shoulder. "I'm not that fragile," he told him, his tone a bit too irritated to be reassuring. "But oi, what's with you?"_

_Of course the other man felt it; their bodies were entirely too close for the swordsman to miss his shaking, no matter how badly he wanted him to._

_Silently, he repeated the words_ calm down_ in his head, over and over, until he finally mustered up the will to guide Zoro back to his bed._

_A bit aggravated, Zoro allowed himself to be set gently down, leaning back against the bed's elevated headrest. Sanji hesitantly started to back away, but before he could put any distance between them, the swordsman pulled him back toward him by yanking his fucking ear._

_"What the hell is your problem?" Sanji yelped. He tried to twist out of the other man's grasp, but Zoro continued firmly clutching the sensitive cartilage and it hurt like hell to even move, let alone pull away._

_"That's what I should be asking you, dartboard-brow," Zoro said calmly. The nearness of the baritone voice to his ear made Sanji suddenly stop; he had not been aware of just how close they were._

_He looked at Zoro. With his face being only inches from his own, it was very clear that there was some kind of expression there that he usually didn't see... Something that looked a bit like concern._

What the hell is wrong with you? You don't get to be concerned about me, you shitty swordsman. Not after how much you've made everyone worry about you, _Sanji thought, a twitch of anguish in his brow._

_Zoro's face was so close, too. Every detail in crystal clarity, the faint smell of antiseptic lingering on him from his numerous bandages, and the shallow breath lightly billowing by his face._

So close._  
_

"_You didn't tell anybody," he commented._

"_Ah," Sanji nodded affirmatively—as much as he could, with the vice-like grip on his earlobe, anyway._

_Zoro did not speak, but the faint nod as the grip on Sanji's ear loosened was more gratitude than Sanji would have ever expected. He probably could have backed away. For some inexplicable reason, he didn't._

So damn close.

_As he studied all of the cuts and abrasions on the green-haired man's face, the emotion that gripped him was nothing short of paralyzing. It was foreign and appalling, something he didn't understand and certainly didn't want to try to._

_A kaleidoscope of feelings seized him, spinning together into something unrecognizable. Fear for his death. Relief over his recovery. Uncertainty about what to say. Apprehension over how that person could shake him so thoroughly, down to his very core. That skip of happiness, when he realized eyelids had finally fluttered open after days of teetering on the edge of life and death. The anger at what he had done for the sake of the rest of them. The indignation that he had been prevented from taking his place. The despair that seemed to loom over all the other feelings._

Goddammit, why are you so close to me? _he thought, only vaguely aware of his hypocrisy for being outraged when he, too, failed to back away._

Is he moving_..._

_"...closer?" Sanji accidentally murmured aloud, his voice just barely audibly, even in the unnaturally silent room._

_Yet it seemed Zoro heard the fragment of a question. It could have been interpreted in many ways, but apparently, the swordsman took it as a request as he leaned in until their lips were just touching._

_An aching longing resonated through his body as they tentatively pressed their lips. He could feel the roughness of a small cut, scabbed over and mostly healed, near the corner of the green-haired man's lower lip, but if the sensation hurt, he did not flinch away from it._

_Sanji deepened the kiss, parting his mouth slightly, unsure of whether he should continue, expecting the swordsman to fling him away at any moment. Instead, Zoro responded by parting his own lips as well, cautiously flicking his tongue forward, until his tongue braised the edge of Sanji's lip._

_The cook let out the tiniest sound, indicating that the gentle, barely noticeable touch had nonetheless caused him some degree of pleasure. Sanji repeated the other man's action, moving his tongue slightly farther into the swordsman's mouth, until their tongues connected._

_Sanji leaned forward, and the other man let himself be gently pushed back until his head was resting on the elevated headrest of the bed. Unconsciously, Sanji rested one knee on top of the bed, to better brace his body as he leaned over Zoro._

_The soft, cautious brushes of their tongues were in stark contrast to their usual sharp, violent interactions. As they kissed, Sanji felt a desperate need to keep going, to kiss him more deeply, more urgently. Maybe it was because it felt so wrong and so confusing. Maybe it was because of the ineffable relief that he was still there before him, warm and alive, able to be spoken to, able to be touched. No matter what the reason, his body felt incapable of pulling away._

_Zoro began to respond a bit more hungrily as well, his tongue slowly building up a more aggressive approach, sliding into Sanji's mouth to explore every secret crevice. Occasionally, a small, deep grunt sounded from his throat, making Sanji's heart race just slightly more than it had in the preceding moment._

_It was a wince of pain, however, that forcefully ripped Sanji back into reality. As Zoro had shifted his position in his eager response to the kiss, he had also irritated one of his many wounds._

_A bit regretfully, Sanji pulled away, pleasurable sensations still lingering on his tongue and lips._

_Zoro looked like he was about to speak, but after a long moment, he seemed to give up on whatever words he had. With a heavy sigh, he folded his hands on his lap, staring downward with a slight furrow in his brow._

_Sanji nodded faintly; they mutually understood that there was really nothing to say, nothing to do. Whatever this moment was, it was a fleeting fancy that would probably turn into a remorseful memory the moment Sanji exited the room._

_Wordlessly, Sanji grabbed the tray he had left on the table by the door, placed it on the tray next to Zoro's bed, and without so much as making eye contact, exited the room._

_Indeed, he felt the tinge of regret, but it was mingled with something else he could not—or perhaps did not want to—identify._

_With resolve, he tried his best to bury the feeling deep within his heart. After all, if he made it sink down deep enough, then it was unlikely to ever resurface again._

* * *

Neither man had ever alluded to that encounter until that moment. And now that it was there, plainly sitting in front of them, as obvious and as tangible as the lips smashed against his, and the strong arms that were now wrapped around him.

"Dammit, shitty swordsman," Sanji muttered, somehow mustering the will to pry himself away from the other man, despite his own body's protests. Shoving the swordsman away, he rose to his feet while Zoro stayed seated on the narrow crate, the faintest hint of a smirk crossing his face.

Holding one hand over his mouth, Sanji turned away from Zoro, staring down at the ground, trying to figure out how to proceed. All he had wanted to do was get back to the ship to begin with, to get off this wretched island; if they had just made it back, this wouldn't have happened. Sanji still felt light-headed and weak from all of the physical manifestations of his stress... and from the nostalgic sensations on his lips that stubbornly refused to fade away.

And yet, oddly enough, even though something devastating had just happened, he felt steadier on his feet than he had a few moments before. His heart pounded a bit harder than usual, sure, but wasn't the frantic, dizzying pace that had plagued him all evening.

He couldn't ignore Zoro's reasoning. This and that really were two different things. His trauma from Momoiro Island—from his own personal hell—was undoubtedly part of the whole, but that shitty marimo had ripped the other issue open, painfully exposing it to the dizzying neon lights surrounding them.

At some point, he had developed _feelings_... shitty feelings for a shitty man that made him more angry than possibly any other person in the entire damn world. And now, he was forced to chase after him on an island that was a prime destination for _male_ couples.

And the source of that feeling had existed before Momoiro.

The swordsman had made him reach an epiphany he had never wanted.

Rage and confusion bubbled up inside of him, until suddenly, he swung his body around, a heavy black shoe becoming airborne as he started a sharp kick. As if he was prepared for it, though, Zoro already had one sword drawn to block.

He grinned, his single eye mirthfully fixated on Sanji, one corner of his mouth twisted up slightly more than the other, almost tauntingly.

_But taunting me to what?_

Several times, he tried backing away, changing his direction, and attacking again, but each time he was adeptly blocked. It was the same fight the two men had fought a hundred times over—maybe more. One man struck. The other blocked, then took his turn to strike. Endless repeat until they grew bored or until something more pressing came up. The never-ending draw.

His anger slowly faded away into a feeling more akin to despair, and finally, he lost the urge to keep it up. He waved his hand in a gesture indicating he was through.

Sanji felt like there was a void within him that needed to be filled, but each interaction just left him feeling more and more empty.

"That's an awfully stupid look on your face right now, dartboard-brow," Zoro commented, sheathing his katana.

"Same to you, shitty marimo," Sanji scowled.

"Actually," Zoro commented, "it reminds me of the look you were giving me at that time."

The statement was vague, but there was no ambiguity as to what _that time_ referred to. Really, the feelings he had buried deep within himself had never been exposed since that time, when Zoro was still recovering from his near-death experience, until this very evening. It wasn't surprising to him if he _was_ making a similar face.

The strange, alluring mix of anger, hopelessness and something faintly resembling longing made Sanji want to feel the swordsman's touch again. He knew it was an urge he should fight, though. He just had to focus on getting back to the ship.

If they left that place now, he wondered if they would ever get the opportunity to be in this situation again. Alone together, with the heavy atmosphere of normally obscured feelings, floating around and exposed.

Considering all the years that had passed since that incident, he wondered if it would be many more years again. Or perhaps, something unexpected would happen, and the right ambience would never show itself again, and this would be the last time he and Zoro would ever share such a tender moment. When he thought about it logically, that would undoubtedly be the most ideal outcome. But when he thought about how he really felt...

_I don't want that to happen_, he admitted to himself with difficulty.

There were a thousand things that could happen in his life that would be easier... Something simple and easy to explain, in a life that was often unexplainable.

He had never truly visualized himself as having a normal and proper life; after all, from his childhood onward, his life could never have been described as typical and pastoral. Since he came into the world that way, it was unlikely his life would suddenly take a turn for the average. Yet still, the possibility wasn't entirely gone. The universe was far too big for his comprehension, and there were an infinite number of plausible outcomes.

He was aware that each decision he made shut doors, though—and often, they were doors he didn't want to voluntarily close. Maybe someday, either Nami or Robin would decide that he was a perfect man for them, and give into his flirtations. They could become a normal couple, two crewmates who were also lovers. Or maybe he'd meet a beauty at some point on their journey, and they would fall madly in love with each other. Though he had never thought much beyond that, it was even possible they could go through those typical steps; marriage, family, spending their lives together.

He was young and more things were possible in this world than he could ever know or imagine.

There was one thing he was certain of, though… any one of those infinite prospects, most assuredly, would be indescribably less troublesome than the man standing before him right now.

Maybe if it had been only a physical attraction, one of those sloppy, reckless moments where two people unthinkingly collide with each other without considering the consequences, it would have been okay. After all, a lot of people have those sorts of encounters—he suspected that such a thing may have happened once or twice between some of his crewmates, in fact—but they get over it and move along with their lives, because a physical attraction was all there was to it.

But for Sanji, this spark wasn't created that way... And once it ignited, the possibility of ignoring that unwanted feeling became closer to zero. All this time, he had tried to snuff the flame by depriving it of oxygen, because he was convinced that if they went even a step further, the vast conflagration that would ensue would surely bring that probability to zero.

He raised a hand to his mouth again, his lips filled with the remembrance of the several kisses they had now shared.

As Sanji was lost in his sea of indecision, Zoro simply watched him. His brow was slightly knitted, and the corner of his mouth was twisted in a small, barely identifiable frown. It was unclear what he was thinking, or how he felt about the current situation... But if there was one thing that was certain, it was that there was no indecision in his posture.

When Sanji finally noticed that decisive stance, the murky veil over him seemed to lift, and suddenly his mind felt clearer. For all the hesitation he was feeling within his own body, the swordsman had none; he simply stood, waiting for whatever decision Sanji would come to. The other man's resolve reminded Sanji of one very simple thing: Zoro must have considered the exact same things as he had, and yet, his body did not hesitate.

_Tch, that's something I wouldn't have expected._

The cook closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing his already racing heart for its next shock.

He lacked the certainty of the other man, but he undoubtedly wanted whatever was about to happen. Even knowing the remorse he would feel, he wanted it.

Nervously, he took a step closer to the green-haired man. Zoro raised his eyebrow slightly, his frown disappearing from his countenance.

Sanji took another step. How many more would it take—perhaps three? Was it already too late to turn back?

Those three short steps felt like the farthest distance he ever had to travel. With each fractionally small increment he crept, he felt he drew nearer to some kind of ominous landmark warning him of certain misfortune if he dared enter. _The point of no return_.

Abruptly, he stopped, realizing how ridiculous it sounded.

_What the hell kind of coward am I, anyway?_ he thought angrily.

No wonder Zoro had called him weak. He was acting like a wuss, scaredy-cat, a wimp—absolutely appalling behavior. The weakness seemed even more apparent as the swordsman's own calm reflected back onto him.

That shitty marimo wasn't turning away from this. He hadn't run, hadn't let things just happen. He had forcibly taken Sanji aside and made him come to terms with his weakness—_no, I don't think that's quite right, _he realized.

Actually, the reason Zoro was here was completely mystifying to Sanji. After all, although he had started having these unspeakable feelings, it was infeasible that the swordsman experienced similar emotions. And certainly, Zoro would not try to help him out of sheer benevolence—if anything, the other man should have been using this as a point of ridicule. (But then, it didn't make sense that he kissed him, if that were the case.)

The reason was bewildering and unfathomable—yet here Zoro was, waiting, looking at Sanji with a calm stare, surprisingly devoid of judgment. Whatever the reason was for him being there, now the next move was on Sanji, and he had to do something.

_You shitty coward, stop acting like a brat_, he scolded himself again.

The final steps were made with a newly-found determination. The distance between them gone, Sanji reached upward toward the other man, pressing his hands tentatively on either side of Zoro's neck, his fingertips loosely grazing his jaw as their lips met. His heart pounded heavily as he felt strong arms wrap around his back, firmly clutching him and drawing their bodies nearer.

That feeling that he had submerged again and again finally surged forward and broke free of the dark waters that had been entombing it; now free, Sanji doubted he would ever be able to contain it again.

The hesitation from the kiss was gone, and now they pressed their lips together more confidently. Their tongues gently met, sweeping back and forth together. Sanji let out a quiet moan as the other man's tongue eagerly flitted into his mouth, exploring all of the new nooks and crannies it had never felt before. Meanwhile, Sanji's tongue danced with the new visitor in his mouth, his brow furrowing slightly from the effort and the desperation he was beginning to feel.

Zoro's low voice, reduced to pleasurable moans and murmurs as they kissed, seemed to send a tremor though his body as they pressed together tightly. He had tried, for so long, to keep himself from imagining this scenario in his mind, but he felt his body shudder with excitement now that it was finally here. He was already berating himself for all the wasted time…

Their lips broke apart, and Zoro pressed his forehead against Sanji's, brushing his cheek with a surprisingly tender gesture. This was surely a side of him he hadn't seen before.

"What do you want to do now?" he asked simply.

His heart jumped into his throat at the direct question. Yet it was clear from the enunciation, _now_ wasn't referring simply to the present moment, but rather, a much longer span of time that might be difficult to capture in words.

The warmth of his forehead was surprisingly reassuring. Unthinkingly, Sanji reached up and ran his fingers through the other man's short, surprisingly soft hair, then trailed his fingers down his left ear until he reached his earring. Absentmindedly, he played with the three dangling pieces of metal as he considered his reply.

"If you want to act like nothing happened again, then it's fine," Zoro continued, a peculiar tinge of sadness coloring his voice. "I just need to know, that's all."

Sanji took a deep breath before responding. "How the hell am I supposed to know how to answer a question like that?" he asked, his voice absent of its usual irritation he had when he answered Zoro with a question.

"Then will you stop ignoring it, at least?" Zoro asked directly, his unblinking stare fixed upon him.

Sanji averted his gaze. "Tch, again, what am I supposed to say to that..."

"It's a yes or no question. I don't get what's so hard about answering."

"Of course it's hard!" Sanji replied sharply. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he considered. "Maybe," he said finally. "That's all I'm saying for now."

Zoro nodded, appeased enough by the answer. He brought in his face slightly closer until their lips touched again.

When they pulled apart, Sanji thought he saw an unexpected emotion reflecting in Zoro's eye. The uncharacteristic emotion disappeared quickly, however, as Zoro's face reverted to its most typical arrogant smirk. Pulling away, Zoro waved a hand at him impatiently, as if urging him on. "Well, what are you doing? Didn't you want to go back to the ship?"

Sanji's brow twitched in annoyance. "Shitty marimo…" he muttered under his breath. Inwardly, Sanji was a bit startled at just how quickly his heart could be pulled in so many directions.

But somewhere beneath the foreign feeling of elation fluttering in his chest, there was something dreadful and apprehensive; too focused on what was currently before him, he chose to ignore it.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Two weeks later, the members of the Strawhat Pirates engaged in a difficult battle, as they tended to do at most of the islands they explored. Like usual, they met with victory, and they all sustained some varying degree of injury. Also like usual, when the battle was over, Chopper patched them up and they embarked out at sea again, ready to reach the next island the log pose directed them to.

However, this time, they had to briefly delay their usual post-battle revelries until their ship's cook was up to the task of preparing a banquet lavish enough to satiate Luffy's tremendous appetite.

Sanji's life certainly had not been in danger, but he was a bit more bashed and bruised than usual—and certainly more than anyone else on the ship.

"It's unusual for Sanji to get injured worse than Luffy and Zoro," Chopper had remarked as has he bandaged his numerous wounds. Sanji's brow twitched with irritation, but he chose not to respond to the comment—although it would be a different story if Zoro said something similar to him.

After carefully examining the cook's movements to see how his body was moving and treating the injuries he could, Chopper issued his doctor's order: one day of rest. No more, but certainly no less.

At first, Sanji had ignored it, but after few barking commands from Nami, he agreed to spend a day resting in the sick bay. "But only because Nami-swan is worried about me," he cried out affectionately to the navigator, who was staring back at him with an unamused expression, lips pursed and arms crossed.

Despite his opposition to resting, his body did feel exhausted, so he was able to fall asleep quite early in the evening.

When he woke up in the middle of the night, he was startled to see a large ball of moss next to the bed, slightly taller than the level of his mattress. Gingerly, he sat up, groggily groping for a light in the unfamiliar room.

As soon as the room was illuminated, he frowned deeply. It was indeed some kind of moss next to his bed, but it was in the form of a shitty marimo who still had that shitty ability of being able to fall asleep anywhere at any time, even if said place happened to be on the floor next to his bed.

Really, what the hell was the swordsman doing in there, anyway? He usually passed out in the Crow's Nest, only occasionally making it to the men's quarters... In fact, every once in a while, he passed out on the deck, and Sanji would find him still outside when he got up to make breakfast, snoring loudly. But this... The cook wasn't sure why the hell he chose _this_ night to decide to sleep in the sick bay.

It didn't seem plausible that Zoro was there for him; after all, he had never really sought Sanji out by himself, and it wasn't like the swordsman had been any closer to him lately. His mind drifted back to their exchange on Coleherne Island. That night seemed almost surreal to him now, as though he had never had such an unsettling conversation with the marimo... as though they hadn't shared such embarrassing words, or such a poignant embrace.

Since they had returned, the two men had resumed their normal, antagonistic exchanges with one another. There wasn't even the slightest irregularity in Zoro's behavior that would hint that the events of that night had taken place.

Sanji felt like the only difference was in himself; every time he was around the other man, there was a piercing apprehension that started to flood him. Even now, as he stared at the green ball in front of him, he could feel his chest tighten.

Irritated at both the remembrance of that night and at the man nonchalantly snoozing next to his bed, he clutched green hair between his fingers and sharply yanked back. Zoro awoke with a small cry of protest.

"Oi, what the hell was that for?" he said indignantly, turning around to look at Sanji, anger carved into his brow.

"How about you tell me why the hell you're sleeping next to my bed?" Sanji glared back at him, reaching for his pack of cigarettes and lighter on the table next to him.

The agitated swordsman pulled himself to his feet. "I was waiting for you to wake up. I came to talk to you, but you went to sleep so damn early."

"Yeah, well, I'm up now," he muttered as he lit his cigarette. "So what the hell do you want?"

Zoro glanced away for a moment, a dour look on his face.

Several seconds ticked by, and Sanji felt his temper slowly rising—as well as his anxiety. "Don't say you came to talk to me and then not say anything, bastard," he said through gritted teeth.

"How are your injuries?" Zoro asked. The serious gaze that the swordsman set on Sanji instantly made him feel uncomfortable.

_Eh? Did he come here just to check on me? _he wondered skeptically, taken aback.

After a long pause and a pensive drag from the cigarette, Sanji blew out a long stream of smoke. "You could have just asked Chopper about that..."

Zoro ignored him. "From what I saw, it looked like most of his blows got you on the head and chest. Where else?"

Sanji raised a curled eyebrow at him, bewildered at the other man's intensity. "It was no big deal... mostly just cuts and scrapes. The one on my head was probably the worst, but even that's fine," he said, brushing his hand against the white bandage wrapped around his forehead.

"What about your arms? Legs?"

_Why the hell am I getting drilled on this? _Sanji wondered with irritation, furrowing his brow deeper and deeper as the line of questions continued, trying to keep his breathing steady.

"Some scapes on my arms, but my legs are fine," he replied curtly.

"I see," Zoro nodded. Suddenly he raised his arm in the air and slammed a sharp elbow down on Sanji's right knee. "Idiot, what the hell were you thinking out there?!" the swordsman roared, an unusual intonation of anger present in his voice.

"What the hell, you shitty marimo," Sanji gasped breathlessly from the burst of pain that followed, cigarette tumbling out of his mouth. Cursing, he frantically groped for the cigarette with one hand before it burned the bed sheets, while grabbing his throbbing knee with the other.

"The hell was that for?!" he shouted finally, when the cigarette had been placed back in his mouth and the throb had lessened enough for him to be able to focus his attention on the swordsman.

"For being so damned stupid out there, bastard," Zoro replied darkly.

"Why check on my injuries if you're just going to injure me even more?" he asked with outrage.

Zoro scoffed, a deep scowl on his face. "Check on your injuries? Tch, I just didn't want to hit a place that was already hurt. I don't give a damn about how you're feeling, you deserve every one of those wounds you got, dumbass cook."

"The hell are you saying?! You were taking on three of the strongest men in their group, and I saw a fourth man sneaking up on you. I jumped in because—"

"I don't care what your stupid reason was, dartboard-brow. I had it under control," Zoro interrupted lowly. "You put yourself right in the way of an attack that I was about to evade."

"How was I supposed to know that, shitty swordsman? To me, it looked like there was no way you could've even known it was coming, let alone block it or get out of the way in time." Vehemently, he puffed on the cigarette. "Not to mention that I had seen him use some kind of ability earlier, and I had no idea whether you knew about it—"

"I don't need you to save me or protect me," Zoro's voice boomed, cutting him off. "If you want to help, then take care of the enemies you're already fighting." His eye narrowed, his furious gaze fixed sharply on Sanji as he said his next words. "You will not take a blow for me again." The swordsman's harsh words were very clearly a command and not a request.

Sanji paused for a moment. He wanted to argue with him, but he was too baffled by Zoro's sudden intense flare of emotion to put together a decent comeback.

The cook averted his gaze for a moment, slowly taking a drag on his cigarette as he tried to recall exactly what had happened. It was true, he was a bit reckless in the way he threw himself between Zoro and the enemy—but it looked like Zoro hadn't noticed the furtive attack and Sanji had no time to consider the consequences. He had acted on instinct, was all.

"Tch, you're the last person in the world who gets to lecture someone over self-sacrifice," Sanji pointed out, furrowing his brow.

Zoro's mouth twitched slightly at his words.

"I knew the attack wouldn't injure me that badly, as long as I was prepared for it. And I'm fine, so there's no damn point in bringing it up now, marimo."

Although his jaw was visibly clenched, Zoro had no retort as he averted his gaze to the ground.

"If that's all you had to say," Sanji went on, "then get the hell out of here."

The swordsman turned away slightly, his eye still fixed on the floor, shadows looming over his eyes.

"Well?" Sanji asked, after a long pause. He took an agitated drag off of his cigarette as he glared at Zoro, waiting for him to leave.

"... a little longer," he muttered, the low rumble of his voice barely audible.

"I didn't hear that."

"I said, I feel like staying a little longer," he repeated a bit more loudly as he peevishly crossed his arms.

"Hah? Why?" Sanji's eyebrow twitched madly as he stared at Zoro in exasperation.

"Move over," Zoro said, abruptly taking a seat on the side of Sanji's bed.

"No way," Sanji protested reflexively, trying to shove the swordsman away. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Yet after a moment of bickering and shoving each other back and forth, Sanji conceded, sliding over slightly so that Zoro could have more room to sit. Or at least, that's what he thought Zoro was going to do. He let out a cry of surprise as the swordsman flopped next to him on the narrow bed, stretching his arms above him to prop his head up as he laid down next to Sanji.

The cook's heart skipped a beat, before settling in to a considerably more rapid heartbeat. Nothing had really happened to the two of them since they were in the alleyway together all those weeks ago, so to say he was merely startled by Zoro's actions was not quite sufficient. He tried his best to relax, but the warmth of the swordsman's body pressed against his side on the narrow bed was having an opposite effect.

"Oi, you're not sleeping here," Sanji warned.

"I wasn't planning on it," Zoro replied.

Yet as the seconds ticked by, Sanji wasn't actually sure _what_ Zoro was planning on doing. They both laid on their backs, sides and hips squished next to each other, staring up at the ceiling in silence. Zoro kept his hands tucked behind his head, while Sanji had his in front of him as he restlessly sucked down his cigarette. They were so close... How could the shitty swordsman be so calm?

Then he realized the cigarette had been reduced to nothing but the butt. Glancing to his left, he saw there was nowhere to set it down, though; the ashtray was on the stand to his right, which would require him leaning over the other man to get to. After staring at the smoldering butt with a perplexed expression for a few moments, Zoro wordlessly reached over and grabbed it from him, their fingertips brushing as he plucked it from the cook's hands and mashed it down in the ashtray to his right.

"Ah, thanks," Sanji muttered, quickly pulling his hand back toward him, still feeling a tingling sensation in his fingers where the swordsman had lightly touched him.

Zoro nodded, but he still didn't speak. Really, that silence was worst of all; it made Sanji's imagination start to churn with ideas about why the other man was there. None of the swordman's actions seemed to make sense to him, and no matter how many ridiculous ideas he came up with, they all seemed inconceivable. What the hell was he trying to do?

But in the end, Zoro did nothing. Instead, at right around the time when Sanji's mind was reaching its most frenzied state, the other man finally spoke.

"I don't know why the hell you tried to take my place that day, but you don't owe me any kind of debt or favor for it." Zoro's tone was unusually subdued.

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Sanji's face. _That day_... Without asking and without any further explanation, he knew Zoro was talking about that day at Thriller Bark. That awful day, when Zoro had prepared to sacrifice his life, and when Sanji had miserably failed at trying to take his place.

"I never once thought that I did," Sanji replied honestly.

Zoro turned his head to glare at him. "Then don't be so damn reckless."

"You know, I would have done what I did today for any one of our nakama," Sanji said, returning the other man's look with an angry glare of his own. Turned toward each other as they laid side by side, their faces were alarmingly close, but Sanji didn't notice as he continued his explanation. "The only difference between you and them is that you're strong enough to handle more powerful enemies. But this time, it looked like you didn't see that attack coming, so I jumped in. I was going to take a hell of a lot less damage if I was prepared to block it than if it hit you by surprise."

"Tch, I would have blocked it."

"I had no way of knowing that!" Sanji objected, his face contorting angrily as he leaned in slightly closer with the effort of his outburst.

It was at that moment Sanji became aware of their closeness. Although they had argued like this so many times before, with their faces practically touching, it felt somehow different and awkward now. Quickly, Sanji turned away, his cheeks feeling slightly warmer than they should have.

"Just don't do it again," Zoro sighed, turning his gaze back toward the ceiling.

"I can't promise that. If you don't want me to get hurt trying to save your ass, then just don't get into situations where I feel like I need to."

Unexpectedly, despite the heavy atmosphere, Zoro chuckled. "I guess that's fair enough."

The conversation died after that, and Sanji felt his eyelids start to grow heavy. As some point, he felt a rough hand reach down and tentatively wrap its fingers around his, and he languidly grabbed back, too groggy to think about it very much.

After all, it wasn't like the hand felt that bad...

That night, he slept deeply and peacefully, not awakening again until morning.

* * *

Sanji woke up with a gasp. His body felt stiff and sore all throughout; payment for all the injuries he had sustained the day before, no doubt.

Sleepily opening his eyes, he stared at the empty wall in front of him. Currently laying on his left side, Sanji cautiously started to roll onto his back so that he could try to force his aching body into a sitting position. However, he quickly became aware of a very large, very warm object behind him that was preventing him from rolling backward.

Sanji froze, suddenly fully aware of his surroundings. Not only was there a person laying behind him, but said person's strong arm was securely wrapped around his waist. Worse still, Sanji's arms were hugged against the other person's muscular forearm. And the absolute worst... there was no doubt who that arm belonged to.

The cook yanked his arms back in surprise.

As much as he wanted to violently propel the marimo out of the bed, as he tried to push him, he realized he was excruciatingly stiff from his injuries. Gritting his teeth, he contemplated trying again... but if he attempted and failed at something as simple as shoving the other man a few feet away from him, and Zoro happened to wake up in the process... The swordsman would undoubtedly pounce on the opportunity to harass him over it. He would be hearing about it for days. No way—it definitely wasn't worth the risk.

Frustrated, he settled for shoving the other man's arm off of him.

"Shitty swordsman, I said you weren't sleeping here," Sanji muttered darkly.

He was met with a sleepy grunt.

Sanji aimed an elbow backward, sharply hitting the other man in his side. "Get up, dammit."

"Ouch," the swordsman muttered groggily, beginning to stir. "Oi, the hell was that for?" he said a bit more alertly, suddenly realizing another person was the source of the discomfort in his ribs.

Sanji started to reply, but then the worst sound he could possibly imagine echoed across the room: the click of the doorknob.

It happened all too fast for him to prevent it or even bark out a command at Zoro to avoid it. The sound of the opening door was followed by hurried footsteps—the short, rapid clicks of hooves, to be precise—followed by a sweet-sounding voice gently calling out to Sanji to see if he was awake.

Zoro, whose back was facing the door, turned to glance at the source of the sound, still rubbing sleep from his eye.

Sanji heard the clatter of something light and metallic crashing to the ground. Now that Zoro had turned away from him, the cook started to push himself upright, struggling to hold back a wince of pain.

"Eh? Ehh? EHHHHH?!" Chopper's panicked cry felt like it pierced right through him. The innocent reindeer clearly could not fathom why Zoro was groggily pulling himself out of the bed that should have been only occupied by Sanji.

Sanji felt sick to his stomach; this was the worst possible situation he could imagine.

Meanwhile, Zoro appeared completed unfazed. "What is it?" he asked Chopper nonchalantly, yawning loudly.

"Wh-wh-why are you sleeping with Sanji—"

"We didn't sleep together!" Sanji interjected.

"But it looks like Zoro just woke up?!" Chopper tried to explain, flailing wildly as his gaze flitted back and forth between the two men.

"I got tired when I came down to see the ero-cook, so I went to sleep," Zoro replied matter-of-factly, as though the lame excuse was a perfectly reasonable explanation.

_There's no way he's just going to be okay with that_, Sanji thought blackly. Nervously, he glanced back at the reindeer, whose jaw was still hanging open in shock.

But suddenly, Chopper's expression relaxed, as he blinked at Zoro in surprise. "Oh... Really? Is that all?"

With a snap, all of the tension in the room seemed to evaporate.

_... Eh? That _is_ all he needs?! _Sanji thought, completely stupefied, his own jaw now hanging open in astonishment.

Zoro nodded affirmatively at Chopper, rising to his feet. "And now I'm going to get some more sleep," he mumbled, gesturing at them sleepily as he exited the room.

"Oh, Zoro," Chopper ran to the doorway and leaned out, calling after him. "Are you going to the Crow's Nest? I'm going to come change your bandages after I'm done with Sanji, okay?"

Sanji didn't hear the swordsman's reply, but seemingly satisfied, Chopper rushed back over to him, picking up the metal tray and items he had dropped earlier.

As Chopper adeptly tended to cleaning and re-bandaging Sanji's wounds while asking him questions about how he was feeling, Sanji's stomach felt like it was twisting in knots. He knew it was inevitable; Chopper was going to ask about the shitty marimo, and he wasn't going to know how to answer it. In fact, as each second ticked by, the cook grew increasingly stunned that for all of the questions the young doctor was asking him, not a single one was about Zoro.

Really, Chopper was often naive or gullible to an almost exaggerated extent, but this just seemed like too much. And even if Chopper didn't find anything odd about Zoro's lackadaisical explanation, if he mentioned it to any other crew member, they would definitely draw the wrong impression... Or perhaps more accurately, the _right_ impression.

Sanji's mind reeled; was it the right impression? He recalled the feeling of the tranquilizing arm gripping him as he awakened a short while ago, and he felt his chest tighten as he thought that there may be a part of him that wanted it to be.

But even if that were the case—and he didn't want to admit whether or not it was—there was no way the crew learning about it would be something he would ever want. Even just imagining his crew mates knowing about his few exchanges with Zoro in the past made his stomach feel like it was being tied in knots.

He shook his head, as though it would make all of these unwanted thoughts tumble out of his mind, forcing his attention back to the matter at hand, which was figuring out what Chopper's impression was.

Finally, he could bear it no longer. He had to figure out what the young doctor thought, and clear the air, even if it meant fibbing to the overly-trusting reindeer—although even he wasn't sure what the truth was anymore, he realized. Still, something had to be said, and he could not hesitate another moment. He turned his head to look back at Chopper, who was currently cleaning a wound on his lower back.

"Oi, listen, about earlier, and what that shitty swordsman said..." he started. However, the troubled expression on the reindeer's face quickly made him forget what he was going to say. "...Chopper?"

The reindeer looked up at him with a serious face. "These scrapes on your back... They aren't very deep, but for some reason, they aren't closing even though it's been over half a day."

"Hah? What does that mean?"

"Normally the healing process begins almost immediately," Chopper explained. "As soon as the wound is formed, your blood starts to coagulate around it, and when it's shallow like this, it should close up and scab over quickly. Usually when that doesn't happen, it indicates that you have some kind of ailment that's making you not heal... But all of your other wounds are healing normally, it's just this particular group of scrapes."

Chopper stared at it a moment longer, his expression gravely serious. Then he snapped out of it and smiled at Sanji. "Ah, but luckily they aren't very deep, so you're not in danger or anything. It will be bad if they don't heal soon, though." He returned his attention back to the wound. "I'm going to look into what it might be, but for now you should be okay as long as its kept bandaged."

Sanji nodded slowly. "I see. Well, I won't worry about it too much since I have a good doctor."

"Saying things like that won't make me happy, idiot!" Chopper cried out cheerfully, a huge grin overtaking his face as he tried to glare furiously at the blonde man.

A few minutes later, Chopper finished up with Sanji and announced that he was going to go check on the rest of the crew.

It was not until the reindeer left the room that he suddenly remembered.

_Dammit, I didn't talk to him about Zoro's lame explanation..._

While it was true that Sanji wasn't overly concerned with the cuts on his back not healing—after all, how bad could a couple of measly scratches be, even if they weren't healing right?—he was mortified about Chopper seeing Zoro sharing a bed with him.

He returned to his earlier concern, over why the shitty marimo had crawled into that bed with him in the first place. Why the hell would he do something like sleep next to him, holding his hand...

The cook pressed a hand to his mouth in horror at the recollection. _That's right, we fell asleep holding hands_, he thought with shame.

He reached for his pack of cigarettes on the stand by the bed. Placing one of the slightly bent sticks in his mouth, he lit it and took a heavy drag. He covered his face with his hands, an abrupt realization coming to mind: it was going to be really troublesome if this kept happening.

* * *

Sanji closed his eyes as he leaned back against the wall of the kitchen, a cigarette loosely dangling from his mouth. It was peculiar; he felt completely drained of energy. Despite that fact that cleaning the kitchen tonight had not been nearly as strenuous as the day before, when he had spent all morning cleaning up after their belated celebratory dinner, it was today that was really getting to him.

Just the meager effort of cleaning dishes and surfaces, and putting everything in its proper place, had utterly exhausted him. In fact, it wasn't just exhaustion; he felt slightly dizzy and short of breath, and even resting was not making him feel completely normal.

He thought he might have heard faint footsteps coming from the dining hall, but he did not really feel up to socializing while he was feeling like this. Since his body was obscured by counter tops, it was likely whoever it was would not realize he was there, even if they glanced into the kitchen... unless they walked all the way into the room.

And unfortunately, that was exactly happened. More unfortunately, he could tell exactly who it was just from the obnoxious aura emanating from him. He slowly opened one eye and glanced up, brow already furrowing in irritation. "What the hell do you want, shitty swordsman?"

Conversing with Zoro had to be at the bottom of his list for things he felt like doing. He didn't like how he felt ill at ease around him; how his stomach started doing flip-flops and his head seemed to ache. It made him feel weak, and he didn't want to deal with it. Not to mention they had barely exchanged any words since that idiot marimo had slept in his bed a few nights prior, and each time he saw his face, he felt the anger as well as the discomfort within himself increase.

Zoro crossed his arms, and from his stupid, smug expression, Sanji already knew he was about to say something aggravating. His eyebrow twitched involuntarily in anticipation.

But suddenly, Zoro's expression turned sober. "Oi, what's wrong with you?" he asked.

"I have a shitty marimo hovering over me," Sanji shot back. He was perplexed that the swordsman had noticed anything, as he was merely sitting on the floor and didn't think he was giving away any tells that something was wrong.

"I'm trying to be serious," the green-haired man said, furrowing his brow.

"So am I," Sanji replied, rubbing his temples in annoyance.

"Dumbass cook, I'm not trying to—" he started, obviously becoming irritated. "I mean, you look really pale," he finally said, his tone softened and unexpectedly genuine.

Sanji felt the vein in his forehead twitch. It was the second time he had heard the swordsman raise that concern, and considering how unpleasant it had been the first time—when they were together at Coleherne Island—he did not have any interest in continuing whatever conversation Zoro wanted to have with him.

Wordlessly, Sanji rose to his feet. A wave of dizziness passed over him, but with determination, he tried to mask it. He wouldn't show Zoro any weakness. "If you didn't come here for anything, I'm leaving."

"Do I need to have a reason to come here?" he asked.

Sanji paused. He felt like the tone of the question should have been antagonizing, but instead, it seemed almost matter-of-fact. Phrasing-wise, it was same kind of comment he would make when they were arguing about something inconsequential, but the inflection seemed to make the meaning... different, somehow.

"No, but usually you would have one," Sanji said finally, feeling a little off balance about the unusual tone of their conversation... But come to think of it, he felt literally off balance from his light-headedness, so perhaps that was the real cause.

"Tch, that doesn't mean I'd tell you what it was, nosebleed," Zoro replied, in a much more typical, aggressive tone.

Sanji clenched his teeth in annoyance.

"Well, do whatever the hell you want. I'm leaving," he replied, taking an unsteady footstep forward.

Immediately, he froze, inwardly cursing at himself as he paused to glance back at Zoro and prayed he did not notice the stumble. To his dismay, the swordsman was watching him all too intently.

But then, it wasn't like Sanji expected Zoro _not_ to notice, when he had already perceived something was amiss. It was infuriating that the green-haired man had the ability to be perceptive in situations like these—especially since he was completely dense most of the time.

The real problem for Sanji, however, was not the bothersome swordsman, but rather, the weakness in his knees. His legs were undoubtedly the strongest part of his body—his deadly weapons—so to have his knees feel like they might buckle from the mere act of standing was beyond unsettling. That kind of frailty was unacceptable.

Oddly enough, the room seemed to be growing rapidly darker, even though there were still a couple hours of daylight left. He wondered if there was a storm outside, and opened his mouth to voice the thought, but it seemed to be a bit difficult to speak. Then the room grew even darker, so that he could barely see in front of him.

Then everything sank into an impenetrable blackness.


	5. Chapter 5

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

Sanji heard somebody making a great deal of noise, but it was distant, so he was able to easily ignore it as he drowsily contemplated going back to sleep. He realized that he should probably be waking up soon, since if one of his nakama was up, it was likely the rest of the ship would awaken and want a good meal. But he felt so very tired, and wanted to rest just a few more minutes.

The voice seemed to draw slightly nearer. It was low and frantic, and even in his sleepy haze, Sanji felt a twinge of annoyance as he realized it belonged to Zoro. But why did Zoro sound so distraught, he wondered, trying to make out the words.

A second voice, much higher-pitched, joined the fray, and he understood that the words were some kind of instruction, as Zoro murmured a reply.

With an abrupt _whump_, Sanji felt his body slam against a bouncy surface. His eyes groggily flickered open in surprise.

"He's awake," Zoro said, turning toward Chopper.

"Good," Chopper nodded. "It seems like he only fainted, but I'll check him over to be sure."

Faint? Tch, that didn't sound like something he would do; he wanted to argue, but his mouth wasn't being very cooperative in voicing his reply, like he was in the middle of a vivid dream he couldn't quite control. Sanji felt his shirt being unbuttoned and pulled off, as he was roughly rolled onto his side. He felt something being pulled off of his lower back.

"What the hell is that from?" Sanji heard Zoro ask.

"It's from the fight a few days ago. The abrasions on this part of his back haven't been healing," Chopper replied.

"He's been losing blood like that since then?" Zoro said incredulously, a trace of worry in his voice.

"No… It wasn't this much before," Chopper replied gravely.

Suddenly the haze lifted and Sanji felt himself snap back into reality. He was awake, and this was really happening. Abruptly, he started to pull himself upright while the doctor was still examining his back.

"Can you hold him still, Zoro?" Chopper asked.

The green-haired man stepped into Sanji's line of vision. "Ah," he nodded affirmatively, and strong arms reached out toward Sanji's body, pressing down on him and effectively preventing him from moving.

"I'll stay still, you don't need to hold me down," Sanji protested, directing an angry glare at Zoro, although he felt faint relief over finding his voice again. The swordsman simply returned the stare, his face devoid of expression. However, he did not release his vice-like grip.

"Is he going to need a blood transfusion, like he did on Fishman Island?" Zoro asked. The question was clearly directed at Chopper, but he did not break eye contact with Sanji.

Chopper shook his head negatively. "No, even with this, he hasn't lost that much blood yet—he's anemic but it's not life-threatening. There might be something else causing this as well, but I want to treat the anemia for the time being." The small reindeer looked up at Zoro. "I'm going to give him some supplements, but nutrients from actual food would be even better. Could you get some foods with vitamin C and iron in them?"

Zoro raised an eyebrow. "How the hell am I supposed to know what those are?"

"Citrus fruits, like oranges or lemons, will have vitamin C—" Chopper started to describe.

"No way," Sanji interrupted, his voice slightly strained. "He doesn't need to do anything. If there's something I'm supposed to eat, I'll get it myself." There was no way in hell he wanted Zoro poking around in his kitchen—or helping him in any way over this. The cook was completely mortified that he had passed out in front of the swordsman like that.

"So the mikans on the deck would work?" Zoro asked, deliberately ignoring him.

"Yes, that be great," Chopper replied.

"Don't touch Nami-swan's mikans without permission!" Sanji protested loudly.

"Ah, that's true, she'll be really angry at us…" Chopper winced.

"I'm sure she'll let me if I tell her it's for something like this," Zoro replied. Then his expression darkened, and he muttered under his breath, "although she might charge me for it..."

Sanji felt his entire body tense; telling Nami, or anyone for that matter, was the last thing he wanted to happen. Enraged, he sat up and yanked the front of Zoro's shirt. "Don't you get it, idiot marimo? I don't want her to know. This isn't that bad, so I don't want her—or anybody—worrying about me right now."

"Are you an idiot?" Zoro asked flatly, furrowing his brow, a flicker of an emotion that Sanji couldn't quite put a name to reflecting in his eye. "We should know if you're injured."

There was a barely detectable quiver in his voice as he pronounced the word _we—_it made Sanji almost feel as if it wasn't really what he wanted to say—and it was just enough to make Sanji hesitate instead of shooting off a comeback. The cook huffed in defeat as he leaned back onto the bed, hoping his indignation masked his confusion... not to mention his exhaustion. Just the act of sitting and grasping the swordsman's shirt had made him feel drained. He couldn't let that show, however; he had already humiliated himself enough for one day.

To his surprise, Zoro turned away and muttered, "Fine, I won't tell Nami, and I'll figure out how to get the mikans."

Sanji buried his face in his hands. "Bell peppers," he muttered.

Zoro turned back toward him and raised an eyebrow. "Hah?"

"There are a bunch of bell peppers in the kitchen," Sanji explained further, rubbing his temple in frustration. "Get the yellow ones, not the green or the red. They'll work just as well in place of the mikans."

"Ah, okay," he said, blinking in surprise. Then the swordsman glanced in Chopper's direction. "Oi, did you say iron was the other thing?... We actually eat things with iron in it?"

Sanji clapped a hand to his head; he just couldn't take it. Shouldn't that muscle-head know _something_ about the food he's eating? Too irked to reply, he let Chopper give Zoro a quick lesson in nutrition, and then rattled off a few things Zoro could grab in the kitchen. Reluctantly, he handed over the keys that would give him access to all of the ship's food.

Zoro gave him one last, lingering look before leaving the room. As the green-haired man exited, Sanji stared in stunned silence at the door that had closed shut behind him. There was something about the complexity of the look on Zoro's face...

This time, it had been an expression that he could actually identify, and it made his chest tighten with an emotion that he didn't feel ready for.

* * *

It took one more day, but Chopper, who had already been trying to identify what was preventing Sanji's wounds from healing, was able to find an antidote to what was presumably some kind of poison. Two days later, the cuts finally closed, and Sanji was no longer steadily losing a trickle of blood.

Sanji was relieved that he did not need to trouble the rest of the crew with it; it was not that he was worried about them finding out, but he didn't want them to be concerned for him when it was such a minor affliction. And maybe also, a stubborn streak of pride made him reluctant to want to admit a few tiny scratches had been such a bother to him.

Zoro kept his promise to keep his mouth shut, but the cook was not surprised. For all of his griping about Zoro, he never doubted the shitty swordsman would keep his word. There was one thing that was annoying him, however... He glanced behind him in irritation.

"Oi, shitty marimo," Sanji called out fiercely as he flipped the contents of a frying pan with one hand while his other hand reached across the counter for a bottle of seasoning.

"Hnn?" came a sleepy grunt from somewhere behind him.

"How many times do I have to say it? Get the hell out of here," he grumbled, glancing over his shoulder to aim a venomous look at the swordsman.

Zoro was sitting on the floor, leaning back against the cabinets at the corner or the room, eyes closed. "Why do you care, dartboard-brow?"

"Because you're in my way... Dammit!" he barked, as he slammed a handful of chopped vegetables into the pan a bit harder than he meant to. Several of them bounced out of the pan and onto the surface of the stove. He cursed under his breath; he wouldn't be making blunders like this if the shitty swordsman wasn't loitering about.

"I'm not in your way sitting back here and you know it," Zoro yawned loudly, leaning back a bit more. "It's just where I wanted to take a nap."

Sanji gritted his teeth, stealing another glance at him. The stupid marimo really did look like he was on the verge of sleep. Aggravated, Sanji forced his attention back to the meal he was preparing.

This had been happening ever since he had lost consciousness a couple of days before. Although the bleeding had stopped, Chopper had warned him that he was still slightly anemic, and Sanji suspected that the young doctor had relayed the same information to Zoro. After all, why else would the shitty swordsman be there?

Sanji had a feeling Zoro was not-so-secretly keeping an eye on him. _Not that it's necessary at all_, he thought with annoyance.

Awhile later, when he was done cooking and had started unloading the completed dishes onto the dining table, he glanced at Zoro. Once again, his suspicions were confirmed that the swordsman was only pretending to sleep; though he had been lounging in the corner motionless for quite some time, he had yet to let out a single snore.

Sanji cast his gaze downward. He wasn't sure how he should interpret Zoro's unpredictable behavior.

He also wasn't sure what he should do with himself, for that matter; it was getting harder to stop thinking about the shitty marimo, no matter how many times he had forbidden himself from having those kinds of thoughts.

"Come on, lunch is ready," he finally managed to utter. Zoro didn't stir; apparently, he had to go through the motion of waking him from his fake sleep.

At first, the cook raised a foot to kick him over, but for some inexplicable reason, he changed his mind and leaned down. Hesitantly, he pressed a hand on Zoro's shoulder.

The swordsman slowly opened his eye and stared up at Sanji. Unfaltering, he reached his hand upward and pressed it on top of Sanji's, holding the cook's hand against his shoulder a bit longer, a steady gaze fixed on him that made Sanji feel momentarily paralyzed.

"Ah," Zoro finally nodded in response, releasing his grip and shifting his weight so he could pull himself up off the floor.

Sanji quickly turned around and walked back toward the dining room to start serving the food, trying to ignore the flip-flopping sensation of his heart pounding in his chest.

* * *

"The hell? With the way those guys at the town were going on about them, I thought these shitty bandits were actually going to be strong," Sanji huffed loudly, jamming his hands in his pockets as he walked away from a pile of unconscious bodies littered across the grassy ground, all of them wearing gaudy outfits tinged with various shades of red and orange. Squinting in the bright sunlight, he could make out Zoro's silhouette standing a short distance away.

"You're only saying that because I was there to take out most of them," Zoro called back, his antagonistic tone instantly getting under Sanji's skin.

"Are you finally losing it, shitty marimo? While you were wasting all your time on that one bulky guy with the swords, I was dealing with most of them," Sanji replied, stepping up next to Zoro with dismay.

"That's because he would've been too hard for you to take on, dartboard-brow," Zoro retorted. The cook was finally able to make out his expression beyond the bright sunlight. Shitty as usual; exactly what he expected.

"While you were wasting all your time fighting that one guy, they probably got even further away from us," Sanji said, referring to Robin, Usopp and Chopper, who they had originally been walking with.

Zoro shrugged casually, starting to walk forward. "We'll find them."

"What the hell is with that attitude?" Sanji barked, rushing forward to keep up with him. "You're the reason we got separated to begin with. You were supposed to be walking back to the Sunny with us, and next thing we knew, you were gone."

"I was right behind you."

"No you weren't, you were going in a completely different direction," Sanji fumed, furious at how the shitty marimo could say something so obviously wrong with such a matter-of-fact expression.

Zoro's brow twitched, but he ignored Sanji's remarks as he continued boldly walking forward.

"And where the hell are you going now, bastard? We were heading toward the trees, the trees!" Sanji emphasized, pointing exaggeratedly in the direction opposite of where Zoro was going. A moment later, he unthinkingly reached out and grabbed Zoro's arm, forcibly dragging him toward the right direction.

The electricity of the touch caught him off-guard, and he felt his breath catch in his throat. For the briefest second, he stopped to steal a glance at the swordsman. Whatever exchange he had just felt wasn't lost on the green-haired man. Zoro gnawed at his lip for a moment as he reached out toward Sanji. The cook inhaled sharply in anticipation; however, before the other man's touch connected, he abruptly stopped himself.

Then he turned away and began to walk in the direction that Sanji had turned him toward. _ The hell was that about?_ Sanji thought with irritation, not exactly certain just what he was irritated about, as he stepped up next to him.

Now the air between them felt stifling awkward. The pair made their way to the forest in the distance without speaking, unable to manage even their usual bickering.

"I think this is the way we came," Sanji finally broke the tense silence, as they found themselves on a meandering path in the forest. "It's hard to tell, though."

"I don't see any signs of them," Zoro said.

"Of course you don't see them, they're probably way ahead of us by now," the cook said, shooting him another angry glare.

"You probably should've let Chopper find me. He could have picked up on the others a lot quicker than you with his nose."

"It's not like I wanted to come find you myself!" Sanji blurted, turning his whole body in Zoro's direction to give more impact to his outburst.

"Is that so," Zoro muttered lowly, keeping his gaze cast in front of him.

Frustrated, Sanji groped at his pocket for a cigarette. He fumed as he lit it and took the first few drags, his agitation increasing as Zoro's words rolled around in his head. What the hell was that shitty marimo trying to imply by that comment, anyway—that he had come rushing to find him? He clenched his fists in anger.

But suddenly, he faltered in his step, his cigarette momentarily dangling listlessly from his agape mouth, as his brow twitched in dismay. _Wait, _did_ I volunteer to come find him? _

Frowning deeply, he tried to recall the conversation with his crew mates. Sometimes the division of labor seemed to happen so naturally amongst them, it was difficult to keep of track who delegated what.

They had agreed that they probably did not all need to look for Zoro; Sanji had insisted Robin head back to the ship; Robin had commented that Chopper should come with her, as he was in his reindeer form that was most practical for carrying supplies, and his bags were full, so it wasn't practical for him to keep walking around; Usopp had offered to go if it was with Sanji, but seemed hesitant to go alone; and Sanji did not want to leave Robin with only the bag-laden Chopper, as the townsfolk had warned them about a dangerous bandit group in the area...

"Shit, I _did_," Sanji murmured under his breath. He had insisted that the three of them travel together while he found the stupid, lost swordsman on his own.

But that wasn't necessarily a bad reason, he realized. They had all agreed that it made sense—Robin in particular, he recalled—and that's why they divided their group that way. He certainly had no ulterior motives in seeking Zoro by himself.

A startlingly gentle hand pressed his back. "Something wrong?" the swordsman asked, his voice closer than what Sanji expected.

"A-ah, no, let's go," he stammered quickly. He realized he had been standing still ever since his misstep. Quickly, he continued forward, trying to ignore how the place where Zoro's hand had grazed suddenly felt inordinately hot. Why the hell did the swordsman have to touch him like that when they were all alone?

The uncomfortable silence seemed to increase exponentially with each step he took. Sanji absentmindedly brushed the fingertips of his left hand together, vaguely aware that it was the hand he had used to grab Zoro's arm earlier.

"This looks like the wrong way," Zoro said, stopping and crossing his arms.

"Coming from you, that probably means it's the right way, then," Sanji muttered, still continuing to walk. But suddenly, a prickling sensation on the back of his neck made him stop. At the same moment, he heard the unmistakable sound of Zoro's swords being removed from their sheaths.

Instinct was the only thing that saved the two men from injury. A group of men wearing orange and red clothing, similar to the men from earlier, surrounded them. Clearly, they were affiliated with the gang of bandits they had decimated just a short while ago.

Before he could think about it, he found himself standing close to Zoro, their backs nearly touching, as they cautiously eyed the enemies surrounding them, waiting for the next flurry of attacks. In the back of his mind, he was aware of his closeness to the swordsman, but there was no time to get distracted by that right now—he had to focus.

There were less than two dozen of them, but this group clearly felt like they were on a higher level than the men they had fought earlier. Their presence was considerably more threatening, although hardly to the degree where they were an actual threat to Zoro and Sanji.

Yet for some reason, when they finally made their move, the group of bandits focused all of their attacks on Zoro, which surprised both of them. Sanji quickly sprang into action to go on the offensive, while the swordsman did his best to defend himself from the sudden onslaught of attacks.

As Zoro's swords occupied themselves with deflecting the multitude of simultaneous blows, one particularly burly man wielding an axe managed to slip into a blind spot. Zoro noticed him a split second too late, and Sanji could already see he would not be able to block in time.

An irrational emotion flooded Sanji's senses. With inhuman speed, the cook leaped in Zoro's direction, somehow managing to knock the Axe-man to the side a nanosecond before the gigantic blade made contact with Zoro's body.

That was the best the bandits were able to do against the two pirates, though.

Now that the bandits' attacks were not synchronized, it was clearly Zoro and Sanji's win. Yet the cook could not just turn off the rush of dread-induced adrenaline pumping through his veins. Unable to hold back, he continued to attack with an unnecessary intensity. He told himself it was out of frustration—that he was just pissed they had all ignored him to attack the swordsman, as through he hadn't been a threat. It certainly wasn't because of the heavy blow that had missed Zoro by a mere sliver.

Sanji knew he was going too far; either he or Zoro alone could have taken this group out without much inconvenience. The first attack against Zoro, which didn't even leave him with so much as a hair out of place, was the only blow that nearly connected with either of them.

He told himself he had to slow down, to relax, to stop attacking so ferociously, but he could not decrease the pressure or reduce the speed of his kicks no matter how hard he inwardly screamed at himself to do so.

Inevitably, the fight—if it could even be called such a ridiculous thing, when the pirates had such a sweeping victory—was over in a matter of seconds rather than minutes.

Panting heavily, Sanji discarded his cigarette butt onto the rocky path. He smashed down on it with his foot in frustration; he realized just how overboard it was for him to roll out attacks of that caliber for a handful of small town bandits. He glanced at Zoro, wondering if he had noticed.

The penetrating gaze directed at him was unreadable, but maybe it was because he couldn't quite tell what thoughts loomed behind that expressionless eye that made Sanji's heart skip in something he would probably describe as panic... or shame.

"Tch, shut up, I know," he muttered lowly, unable to face him another moment. He briskly walked back him and started to continue down the path.

Blonde hair obscured his darkened eyes as he gloomily marched forward, inwardly berating himself for his reprehensible behavior. To once again act so weak... he bit down on his lip sharply.

Yet even as he tried to avoid looking at Zoro, it was very apparent that he was being stared at. With each step, he could feel the swordsman's gaze boring into his back, crushing him with its intensity.

He stopped abruptly, staring at the trail ahead with vexation. They had to be lost; whatever path they had taken on the way there, this was surely not it, because it looked far more bleak than earlier.

Maybe it was just him who seemed more bleak, though. He smirked sorely at the thought.

Studying the scenery around him, he wondered if he had overlooked a fork somewhere; it's not like he could have depended on Zoro to point out if he missed a split in the path.

A wave of frustration passed over him as he thought about how the shitty swordsman was too busy noticing pointless things about himself to actually do anything helpful. But even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't true.

He jumped in surprise as Zoro stepped in next to him, his arm brushing against Sanji's. Even through the long sleeves of his shirt, the cook could feel the heat of the other man's skin; even with a mere touch through his clothes, he could feel a shiver run up his spine that he could not necessarily call unpleasant.

That casual touch between them had been happening with more frequency lately, he realized. Even in the short while they had been alone on the island, there had been so many instances. He didn't know if it was intentional on Zoro's part, but as he thought back, he realized some of it was his fault, too.

Zoro had been the one to lightly touch his back, but Sanji had been the one to grab his arm when he was leading him toward the forest. When they stood back to back facing the bandits, they had both drawn a little nearer to each other than they used to. And now, it was definitely Zoro who had stepped a little too close to him, but he certainly wasn't making any moves to step away.

As they stood together in silence, Sanji wondered just what was the right reaction for him to have. He felt like it was to turn away from it. But how could he keep telling himself he should resist, when just the feeling of the other man's arm against him was making his heart pound this hard?

When these casual, seemingly accidental touches happened, Sanji often had an inkling the other man was merely teasing him; after all, there was usually someone else around, so no matter how he reacted, he would wind up looking foolish. Whether he chose to stay near the swordsman, or to violently oppose the touch, he would draw unwanted attention to himself.

But in this situation, Sanji's theory was undoubtedly debunked. Right now, they were all alone in the middle of nowhere, and still Zoro stood this close to him. And it wasn't like they hadn't been close before... Memories of hungry kisses, hesitating hands and arms wrapped around him filled his mind.

And then there was that moment Zoro had started to outstretch his hand toward him earlier, with such a strange expression on his face, like he had wanted to reach out for him. The cook's heart began to pound faster as he realized that thinking all of these things made his body want to act on an impulse.

Abruptly, Sanji turned to face Zoro, the cogs in his mind churning rapidly as they tried to process the heavy decisions he was contemplating.

He could almost hear the rush of blood roaring in his ears as he stared at Zoro, who was standing just a bit too closely, as he tried to read the other man's indecipherable expression. He hoped that, maybe, there would be a clue there. Maybe something there would tell him the decision he should make.

But there was no hint written on the swordsman's face that gave him the right answer. The only conclusion Sanji could draw was that there wasn't one. Nothing about what was going on between them _was_ wrong or right; it was just piled up anxiety, and no matter what he chose to do, none of the options he picked, whether it was to take Zoro right there or to never see him again, would make him feel right or normal again.

Sanji took a step closer, and Zoro didn't try to move. Why would he, anyway? He hadn't backed away, not even once, even when he himself had constantly tried to evade.

Like he wanted to do right now. The spur-of-the-moment impulse that had made him stop and face the swordsman had long since dissipated, and now he was back to the mentality of needing to run from him. From _it_. That unspeakable thing between them that felt as real and present as the swordsman himself.

The hesitant moment lasted too long; he was unable to take the final step. With a sigh, he started to turn away, but Zoro grabbed his wrist and yanked him toward him until their faces were inexcusably close.

"The hell kind of expression is that, ero-cook?" Zoro scowled, his eyebrow visibly twitching.

Sanji frantically searched his mind for a retort, but as it turned out, no verbal response was required.

The cook felt a strong hand roughly grip the back of his head as warm lips crushed against his. He started to pull back, but the firm grip held him securely in place, and he gave up the fight almost before it began.

He wasn't even sure how badly he wanted to fight it. Although he could feel his eyebrows contorted in a concerned expression, his tongue seemed to be responding on its own, sliding past the swordsman's eager tongue to make its way into his mouth. His inexplicably desperate hands found their way to the other man's back, and for some reason, they seemed to be pulling him closer.

Zoro pulled back from the drawn-out kiss for a moment, still firmly holding the back of Sanji's head as he paused to study his face. The cook felt a wave of embarrassment pass over him; he was breathing heavily and his cheeks felt unreasonably warm. He didn't want the other man to get a good look at him looking like that.

But then, as he glanced at Zoro, he realized the swordsman shared a similar expression. He, too, was panting, and Sanji could not help but marvel over the pink tinge painted across his cheeks and nose; it was something he had not seen before, at least not in this way. The word _lustful _drifted through his mind, and an unbearable wave of longing flooded through him.

Then their lips connected again, a but more cravingly, and Sanji let himself get lost in the sensations, the flow of time around him seeming irrelevant compared to the feel of Zoro's mouth, his tongue, his hands pressed against his own heated body.

With increasing yearning, Sanji crushed his lips against Zoro's with more force. He realized that he hadn't noticed just how delectable the other man's mouth was before. Even as he already had it, he greedily felt like he couldn't get enough.

A voice in the back of Sanji's mind warned him this was a bad idea; but as he let his own longing take control, he knew there was no way he would willingly pull himself away from the swordsman at this moment.

Rather, it was the sound of a feminine voice politely clearing her throat that ripped him back into reality. An unbearably familiar voice...

They both rapidly pulled away from each other. Panic seized Sanji's body. Too paralyzed to turn around, he could only stare at Zoro's insufferably unperturbed expression.

"Looks like we were going the right way," Zoro commented, his voice nonchalant, despite the telltale flush on his cheeks.

Sanji's mind reeled, as he tried to grasp just how the swordsman could be so relaxed.

"Have you been looking for us long?" Robin asked. Sanji knew it took a great deal to rattle the cool-headed woman, but he couldn't help but feel utterly stunned that there was not even the slightest trace of surprise in her voice. After all, no matter how unshakeable Robin was, the sight of two of her male crew mates practically in each other's arms should have been at least a little bit startling...

But even if Robin wasn't startled, Sanji sure as well was. Finally mustering the courage to move—and unable to bear looking at Zoro's lackadaisical face for even another second—he turned around and glanced up at her, dreading meeting her gaze.

The tall brunette was completely unfazed, and Sanji could not help but be bewildered; how could her demeanor remain so unflappable, even as she coolly gazed upon his red face and shaky poise? How the hell was he supposed to act, now that she'd seen him? Seen _them_? Was he supposed to act like himself? How contradictory would his usual behavior be, given the situation...

"Not that long," Zoro replied to her, breaking into a yawn that seemed slightly in conflict with his flushed cheeks. "Is everyone up ahead? I'm ready to get back to the ship."

"Yes, they're just a short distance away. I had a feeling you were close, so I broke away for a moment," Robin replied, her cool gaze breaking from Sanji to turn back toward the swordsman.

Sanji looked back and forth between them, dumbstruck. They were both conversing as though Robin hadn't just seen something more than deserving of at least a measly comment.

"Oi, are you going to just stand there?" Zoro asked, giving the cook a look that made him feel instantly irritated; that slightly indignant, yet indifferent look, like Sanji pausing for a few seconds was inconveniencing him.

But irritated or not, he still couldn't quite overcome his stupor. Overwhelmed, he barely managed to stagger behind the two of them as Robin showed them where Usopp and Chopper were waiting up ahead.

With each difficult step, however, he came closer to a resolution. Part of Sanji's problem had been how undecided he had felt in his own heart. Now, he knew the answer: whatever this was, it couldn't keep happening. The sickening feeling in his stomach was unbearable. He couldn't keep falling into Zoro's pace. Next time he was alone with the swordsman, he wouldn't let something like that happen.

Now that his mind had settled slightly, Sanji decided to follow Zoro and Robin's lead, and also act as if nothing abnormal had just occurred. He rushed past Zoro, catching up to Robin, quickly switching into his usual, swooning demeanor. "Robin-chwaaan, wait for me, I'll walk with you," he called out flirtatiously.

She reacted the same as always—patient but indifferent—and Sanji focused all of his attention on her until they caught up with their other crew mates.

Even after they met up with the rest of the crew, Sanji couldn't bring himself to turn around and look back toward Zoro even a single time; he was too afraid that even the slightest mirthful grin would be enough to break his resolve.


	6. Chapter 6

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX**

Overheated and sticky from sweat, Sanji could barely stand to be in his clothes another minute. The summer island they were nearing was sure to be unbearable; the brutal humidity felt like it coated his skin in slime. Even after he cleaned himself, he was sure that he would instantly feel unclean again.

But even if that would be the case, he still didn't want to put off the bath even a moment longer. The thought of feeling clean and cool, if only briefly, sounded heavenly.

As he undressed and stepped inside of the bath, however, his heart skipped as he realized he was not the only person there. Normally that wouldn't have mattered—it was a large bath, after all—but in this instance, despite how disgusting and unclean he felt, he nearly turned on his heel and fled.

A shitty marimo was the reason. Zoro was stretched out in the water, a towel over his head, eye closed as though he might have been sleeping. In fact, it was the thought that the idiot may have managed to pass out in the bathwater that made Sanji pause a brief moment—and that moment proved to be just a fraction of a second too long.

The swordsman's eye flickered open, and upon seeing Sanji, he suddenly sat upright, the towel on his head carelessly slipping into the water. "Oi, wait a second."

Sanji grimaced, quickly turning his naked back to Zoro as he hurried toward the door. The brief glimpse of the expression on Zoro's face felt burned into his mind, though. What the hell was that look he had on his face, that appeared so concerned and desperate?

The cook hadn't hurried enough; a strong hand grabbed his wrist, jerking him backward slightly and stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Let go of me, bastard," Sanji growled.

"I'll let go if you take your damn bath like you came here to do, nosebleed," Zoro replied.

"Tch, I don't think that's any of your concern, shitty swordsman. I just noticed the bath seemed to be overrun with moss so I decided to come back later."

With a pang, Sanji realized these were the first words he had really spoken to Zoro for days. Even their usual angry, aggressive banter had all but ceased. The most he had asked him were yes or no questions about meals.

It's not that he had been actively avoiding him; it just felt too difficult to speak to the swordsman lately. Every time he looked at his face, he remembered Robin's stare fixed upon him. The awful, nauseating feeling of humiliation in his stomach. The dizzying panic of being discovered, when he had not expected anyone to be around.

In fact, now that a little bit of time had passed, Sanji realized it was the shock of suddenly being found with Zoro that had affected him the most. But even after reaching this epiphany, it's not like it made a difference; what the hell was he going to do, discuss it with the marimo? It was unlikely they wouldn't get caught together if he kept letting himself get pulled into situations like this, so it was easier to just ignore him.

However, the swordsman did not share a similar idea. "You're such an idiot," Zoro said with irritation, yanking Sanji backward until he was nearly to the edge of the bath. "Just get in there already."

"Oi, hold on, I haven't showered yet," Sanji protested, successfully yanking himself away from Zoro's slippery hands. He glowered at the swordsman, but his line of vision was immediately diverted downward toward the slick, muscular body standing in front of him. Ripping his eyes away with difficulty, he walked over to the shower.

He silently cursed himself as he turned on the water, taking a seat on one of the bath stools. Even now, as he was trying to avoid the shitty swordsman, he still felt an unwanted _stir_ within himself. He desperately wished he could be around Zoro without feeling that damned longing deep within him.

As he mulled over his bitter thoughts, a sudden splash from somewhere behind him made him jump slightly, even though he knew it was just Zoro returning to the bathwater.

"Why the hell did you drag me in here, anyway," Sanji muttered, but as soon as the words escaped, he knew it was a mistake. Each word he spoke was opening the door for the opportunity for them to speak. And quite frankly, he felt like they had nothing left to say to one another—or rather, each time they spoke, he'd be tempted to do something he would regret again.

An unwarranted wave of dread passed over him as he considered all the things that could happen while they were alone together in the bath... Sanji wasn't sure if he trusted himself to properly refuse if something like that started to happen. But he couldn't let it happen, not here. Anyone could just walk in, and there would be no way to explain their way out of anything in that kind of situation.

He closed his eyes tightly, pausing for a moment to rub his aching temples, wondering why the hell he actually let the swordsman drag him into the bath when he had tried to leave.

Losing himself in his his thoughts again, the only thing he was really paying attention to was his agony-fueled musings and the sound of himself vigorously rubbing shampoo into his hair. He certainly didn't hear another splashing sound or the footsteps echoing across the hollow room.

That's why, when Zoro's voice was suddenly right next to his ear, Sanji jumped to his feet in surprise, slipping on the wet tile and falling backward.

Whatever sentence Zoro had begun to speak, Sanji didn't catch a single word of it, as it was cut short immediately. Although he expected to land on his ass, instead, his body was stopped by the swordsman.

His heart scampered inside of his chest, flip-flopping erratically as though it suddenly forgot its purpose. Even though he righted his posture instantly, that brief second was more than enough to memorize every impression of Zoro's slick, naked body against his exposed back.

A blush crept over his face, and he quickly looked downward, hoping his wet, sudsy hair would be enough to conceal his expression until he felt the heat leave his cheeks. After all, he couldn't let Zoro know he was feeling anything but fury.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Sanji yelled.

Zoro smirked. "I was just trying to tell you that I was leaving."

"Why did you need to do that so close to me then?!" he replied angrily. Finally, he dared turn around to give Zoro a resentful glare, fighting to keep his eyes from straying downward. Again, if someone had walked in on that, what would it have looked like? He was mortified by the mere thought.

The swordsman simply stared at him, shrugging nonchalantly and crossing his arms. He boldly took a step toward Sanji, and the cook quickly jumped backward, so that he would not be in the swordsman's reach.

But his target was actually the stream of water coming out of the shower head. When Sanji had tumbled against him, he had smeared shampoo on his cheek and face. Not breaking eye contact with Sanji, he haphazardly sprayed the jet of water over his body for a few seconds. Then, once he was rinsed, he turned around without so much as another glance, and headed to the door.

Outraged, Sanji sat back down on the stool and resumed his shower. He wasn't sure who he was more upset with, the shitty swordsman or himself, for acting like a skittish animal.

Yet apparently Zoro wasn't done just yet. As he was about to exit the room, the green-haired man paused for a moment, glancing over his shoulder.

"Ah, by the way... I talked to Robin."

The cook scrunched his face in irritation. "Is that supposed to piss me off or something? Robin-chwan shouldn't have to put up with a shitty marimo like you, but I can't help you talking to her."

"No, stupid dartboard-brow, I mean about _that,_" Zoro replied, his tone slightly lower with agitation.

Despite the warm water streaming over him, a shiver ran down his spine. Now Zoro had his attention; Sanji abruptly spun around, utterly mortified. After all, there was no mystery as to what _that_ was.

"You _what_? Bastard, why the hell would you talk to Robin-chwan about something like that?!" Sanji exclaimed, mind reeling; he could barely imagine the two of them speaking in private, let alone Zoro bringing up such a disconcerting topic with her.

He nodded affirmatively. "Though, it was more of just her talking. She said she hoped you weren't too shaken."

"Eh? Why would she say that?!"

"...And mentioned something about us making 'progression.' That's the word she used, anyway."

Sanji stared down at the ground darkly as a flood of devastating thoughts entered his mind. "What the hell do you mean by that, Robin-chwan," he agonized, his muttering barely audible.

Zoro shrugged. "I'm only telling you because I thought it might make you feel better."

"Why the hell would that make me feel better?!" he barked.

"Well, it didn't seem like she was interested in talking to anyone else about it."

Sanji clamped his jaw shut abruptly, staring at the other man with chagrin. He wanted to blurt out many things, to somehow make the shitty marimo understand just how much he _didn't_ understand.

The thought of Robin telling others, while disconcerting, was such a small part of the reason he was upset, it was almost laughable that the swordsman brought it up. He wanted to try to get across just how much the shock of being unexpectedly discovered had crawled under his skin, the interruption that had made his heart feel like it could have withered and died at that moment. And how there were so many things he couldn't understand about himself and how he felt, about them-his frustration that there could even be a "them"—and maybe he didn't ever _want_ to understand it.

But he didn't really want to share these things aloud with the marimo; in fact, he was fairly certain he was completely incapable of doing so. Instead, he kept his jaw clenched shut, silently cursing that the other man was denser than a block of granite.

Zoro turned his head a bit more, just enough for Sanji to make out the indecipherable look in his eye. "So whenever you're done avoiding me, ero-cook, maybe we can finish what he started."

Then he swiftly disappeared, closing the door with a loud _click _that seemed to echo a little too loudly across the empty bathroom. Sanji hung his head between his knees, his expression dark, as he tried to process the exchange that had just happened.

Robin called it _progression _when she had seen the two of them locked in a kiss. He could hardly bear the thought of his beautiful, magnificent Robin-chwan observing him and coming to that kind of conclusion about him and the shitty swordsman. It was appalling. Utterly humiliating. He could never find fault in Robin, but for a moment, he wanted to curse how overly-perspicacious she could be sometimes.

And then there was the swordsman. How could Zoro say so openly, so unashamedly, that he wanted to continue what they started.

But didn't he want to, too? He closed his eyes, barely aware of the warm water streaming over his head and back. He pressed his hands to his tingling lips as he thought about Zoro's insatiable mouth, about just how abruptly they were interrupted when Robin found them in the woods... about just how many times he had wanted to feel that mouth again.

Sanji sighed heavily as he realized there was one fact he desperately needed to face. Beyond the dread and apprehension that felt like it was consuming him, there was also something else, a very desperate ache, that seemed to burn in a slightly lower region.

A thought crossed his mind. It was a troubling thought, but it also felt like it may have been something somewhat resembling a solution.

_Maybe if there was no way for anyone else to find out..._

* * *

"If it's for Nami-swan, of course I will," Sanji crooned, winking at Nami as he dashed off to the kitchen to comply with her request. It was several hours after dinner, and he had actually been headed to the men's quarters to sleep, but there was no way he could turn down such a request from the beautiful navigator.

The cook swiftly fixed a stunning array of hors d'oeuvres for Nami and the rest of the crew, who all seemed to be gathering together on the deck with cold beverages. Although he probably should have joined them, he really wasn't really in the mood for carousing.

Difficult thoughts had been swirling around his mind all day, all related to the shitty conversation he had had earlier with the shitty marimo, and that stupid faux-solution that he couldn't stop thinking about; it was making him feel more weary than what was probably reasonable. He thought he would just quickly clean up and head down to the men's quarters, but the cool evening air seemed to energize him, and instead, he let himself get distracted by various things that needed to be done in the kitchen.

Before he knew it, a full hour had passed and he had run out of things he could clean and prep for the morning. Languidly, he lit a cigarette, trying to decide what he should do next. Probably sleep.

From the increasingly louder sounds coming from the lawn deck of the Sunny, it seemed the crew was awake and lively with no plans to retire anytime soon. On nights like this, Sanji knew that if he tried to sleep instead of joining the revelry, he would be awakened many times in the middle of the night as his nakama came back into the men's quarters, one by one, stumbling and crashing into many things before they actually made it into their beds.

Sanji eyed the large bags of grains resting on the floor the pantry as he took a pensive drag, letting the smoke escape from his lips slowly. He had slept up there a handful of times before, when he felt he needed some peace and quiet, but it wasn't the most pleasant experience; he usually woke up feeling stiff and only slightly rested.

A thought of another place he could sleep crossed his mind, making him bite his lip as he tried to convince himself it was a bad idea... He cursed at himself under his breath, wishing he would stop having these ridiculous thoughts.

With a sigh, he flicked off all of the lights and exited the kitchen and dining hall, stepping out onto the lawn deck. In the cover of darkness, he was fairly certain no one actually noticed him, and he stayed in the shadows as he started to head back to his quarters.

The outline of the Crow's Nest against the starry night sky caught his attention, and once again, the idea he was trying to ignore flooded his mind.

He stared up at it for a long moment, and as he did, Zoro's words from earlier echoed in his head. Sanji realized he really didn't want to keep ignoring the swordsman, the way he had been. He still felt a painful twinge in his chest every time he remembered how he felt when Robin had found him and Zoro together, but up there, where the crew seldom had a purpose to visit, it would be more isolated.

_As long as no one would find out_...

That speculative solution flickered through his mind again. He was sure it was just poor judgment caused by his fatigue, but for some reason, the thought of a quiet night sleeping in the Crow's Nest didn't sound so bad... Well, how quiet it would be was questionable, but the appeal was still completely overpowering.

Sanji glanced back at the lawn deck. Zoro was with the rest of the crew, sitting off to the side, periodically taking large gulps of beer out of a large tankard as he observed the rest of the crew's antics.

_Because it would be completely isolated from everyone else..._

Unconsciously, Sanji loosened his tie, his neck suddenly feeling inordinately hot.

Before he knew it, his legs had brought him to the ladder that would take him up to the Crow's Nest, and his heart pounded slightly harder than it probably should. He had a vague notion that he was going to quickly regret this, but for some reason, he didn't seem to be able to stop himself from acting on this impulse.

Although Sanji knew he would find the Crow's Nest empty, when he thought about Zoro coming up to sleep later, he felt some sort of excitement in his chest that he didn't quite want to admit to; and likewise, as he considered the possibility that the swordsman would pass out on the deck and never come up, or worse, actually sleep in the men's quarters for a change, he felt a pang of disappointment.

Discarding his tie and tossing his shirt aside, he cautiously sat down where he assumed Zoro usually slept; it's not like there was a bed up there, but there were some telltale cushions and blankets. Then, he gathered his courage, leaned back and closed his eyes. He thought he may not be able to sleep, especially when his heart was pounding so crazily, but once he closed his eyes, he fell asleep quickly.

And then, the sensation of warm lips on his mouth woke him up again.

Hot, demanding lips that were instantly recognizable.

In the back of his mind, Sanji felt like he probably should have put on the appearance of fighting back a little, but really, it's not like he hadn't expected such a thing to happen. Instead, as that increasingly urgent mouth pressed against his, he responded with a similar intensity. Unable to see much in the complete darkness of the room, he let his other senses drink in the details of the swordsman.

Like the texture of his soft, somewhat bristly hair. Sanji roughly clasped the strands, enjoying the feeling of the coarse strands sliding between his fingers.

Or the other man's calloused hands against his bare skin. It was surprising just how gentle the touch of those strong hands could be, as they glided over his skin at an almost agonizingly slow pace, tracing the lines of his muscles and bones on his chest and abdomen.

As usual, the faint smell of steel clung to the other man's hair and clothes, mixed with the salty air of the sea... and the scent of _him_. Sanji breathed deeply, taking in his scent, letting it fill his lungs. In the back of his mind, he realized that this could be addicting... Maybe even better than cigarettes.

As the other man's tongue fought its way into his own mouth with increasing force, he could pick up on the barely perceptible taste of the lager Zoro had been drinking, mixed in with the surprisingly sweet taste of his saliva. It was such an inconsistency with his salty personality, and it made Sanji want to drink it in endlessly.

And then then there was his voice. In the dead silence of the Crow's Nest, the low, rumbling voice filled his world, so that he could hear even the most hushed murmuration. He had never realized just how many slight sounds of pleasure that the swordsman let leak out. His resonating voice mesmerized him, making him want to do whatever he could to make the other man cry out louder and more frequently.

Sanji felt the stir within himself start to churn more urgently. He reached around Zoro, who was still leaning over him, wrapping his arms around his back so he could pull him down onto him. Bare chests firmly pressed together and Sanji began to kiss him even more desperately as their bodies grinded together.

They continued like that for awhile—how long, Sanji couldn't really say—but when they finally pulled their lips apart, they were both panting heavily. Not breaking the contact between their bodies, both men slightly overheated from the zeal of their kisses, Zoro rolled off of the other man onto his side, and Sanji turned to face him. As they stared at each other, Sanji could just barely make out Zoro's face in the darkness of the room.

He could see just enough to notice the swordsman start to smirk, though. "I thought it was strange when I noticed you climbing up here," Zoro commented.

"Ah, you saw? I didn't think anyone did," Sanji said, trying to mask the embarrassment in his tone.

Zoro nodded. "When you didn't come down after awhile, I decided to come up." The smirk widened into something more resemblant of a grin. "I have to say, I didn't expect to find an ero-cook in my bed."

"Tch, I was just looking for a quiet place to sleep," Sanji replied indifferently, averting his gaze, grateful that the darkness hid the tinge of pink in his cheeks.

"Then why the hell would you come here, dumbass cook," Zoro said, a bit threateningly, ending his sentence by reconnecting his lips with Sanji's.

This kiss was a little less forceful, although certainly not for lack of enthusiasm. It was softer, gentler, and a bit more slow-placed. Sanji took it in ardently, savoring the soft tongue gently sweeping against his. He felt fingers lace together with his own, and he pulled Zoro's hand up to the spot just underneath his chin, still keeping it intertwined with his own, pressing the swordsman's skin against his bare neck.

Once the kiss ceased, Sanji pressed his lips against Zoro's hand, and they laid there together in silence. At first, he expected the swordsman to continue, but then he realized the other man's breath was gradually slowing, as though he may have been drifting to sleep. He listened to his breathing for awhile, until soon, sleep overtook him as well.

* * *

When he woke up, his head was pressed against Zoro's bare chest and their bodies were tangled together. He could tell that the sun was starting to come out, and knew he would need to get up soon to start preparing breakfast, but he wanted to put it off just a few moments longer.

The swordsman was snoring lightly, and there was probably no way he could unravel their limbs without waking him. Not that he cared about waking the marimo up, he told himself—he just wanted to rest a few more minutes, that was all. Here, where they were safe from the eyes of the rest of the crew; it was okay for him to remain comfortable, for just a few more moments.

He was a little bit surprised at how noisy it was in the Crow's Nest, actually; there were strong winds outside, howling loudly and seeming to echo through the room. Yet over the noise from outside, he realized he could just barely make out the beating of Zoro's heart. Curiously, he pressed his ear against his chest a bit more firmly. He felt the green-haired man start to stir, but Sanji did not make any move to let him know he was awake.

Zoro sleepily pulled Sanji closer to him. The cook heard the swordsman's heartbeat began to grow more rapid, and he felt a mixture of surprise and wonderment over it.

Sure, his own heart was pounding thunderously in his chest, but he was surprised that it was happening to Zoro as well. Hadn't he seemed completely nonchalant about everything going on between them?

But maybe he had been more affected than he put on. He thought about the hot, flushed look on the swordsman's face while they were in the woods at the last island; surely at that time, the other man was feeling just as bothered as he was. Maybe it had been naive of him to believe the other man was unaffected.

"Oi, you're awake, aren't you?" Zoro asked suddenly, and Sanji felt a warm hand rest on top of his head.

"Ah," he said sleepily, pulling himself away from Zoro's pounding chest with a tinge of regret.

He sat up and looked back at Zoro, who he noticed was glancing toward the other end of the Crow's Nest with a slightly apprehensive look on his face.

"What?" Sanji asked, starting to pull himself upright.

Zoro glanced over at him, his expression slightly grim. "Can you hear that?"

"Ah, the wind? Yeah, I was surprised that it got to loud up here," Sanji replied, glancing out the window as he rose to his feet.

Zoro shook his head. "No, not that." He glanced to the other side of the Crow's Nest again, but Sanji couldn't see anything. "Just don't... don't act like a dumbass."

Something about the swordman's tone made his heart skip. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked, a bit nervously, as he went to grab his shirt.

"Ah, it stopped now," Zoro said.

It was only when the noise ceased that Sanji realized it wasn't only wind he had heard. When he first noticed it, it had sounded kind of like something scraping against metal. Since it was steady and repetitive, he had just assumed it was just wind hitting a certain part of the ship—especially since they were so high up.

Uneasiness washed over him as he looked in the direction that Zoro kept peering toward. If it wasn't the wind, there weren't many other things it could be, but they were supposed to be isolated up in the Crow's Nest...

Usopp suddenly stepped out of an area that was in a blind-spot to where they had been sleeping, lightly dabbing sweat off of his forehead with a towel. His eyes instantly met Sanji's and the long-nosed man's jaw dropped in surprise. He sputtered a few guttural sounds, but none of them actually formed words.

Sanji was instantly aware of what he looked like—what _this_ looked like. It was barely light out, he had obviously just awakened, his shirt was unbuttoned and disheveled, and he was holding his tie in his hand. He shifted his gaze to Zoro, who was still laying down, bare-chested, rubbing sleep from his eyes, a blanket messily strewn across his lower half.

"Shit," Sanji muttered.

Finally, the long-nosed man seemed to find his voice. "S-sorry, I didn't know you were—I mean, I thought it was just Zoro in here," Usopp stammered, holding his hands in front of him as though in surrender. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"Usopp comes up here a lot," Zoro added, not bothering to get up.

"That isn't the first comment you should be making right now!" Sanji barked at Zoro. Shouldn't the shitty swordsman realize he should be trying to explain the situation to Usopp instead of to him?!

Then Sanji turned toward Usopp. "You're not interrupting anything. This isn't what it looks like."

"Well, not _exactly_ what it looks like," Zoro added indifferently.

"Why are you no help at all?!" Sanji shouted as he turned toward the green-haired man again.

Usopp's eyes flickered back and forth between them nervously. "Ahh, I'm sorry, I'm going to get out of here," he said quickly, starting to back up toward the exit.

"There's no need, I'm the one who's leaving," Sanji said, fumbling to button his shirt as he rushed to the trapdoor.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't think to check to see if there was anyone else here…" Usopp called out after him.

_You shouldn't have to_, he thought in horror.

"Just forget about it," Sanji cried out as he disappeared through the trapdoor, slamming it shut behind him. He flew down the ladder and raced to the kitchen, feeling completely and utterly mortified.

When he was finally alone and out of sight, he sank down to the floor and cupped his hands over his mouth.

Again. It had happened again. A third time. This time, he thought they were being careful, and that there was no chance of anyone catching them together, but lo and behold, it had happened...

He clenched his jaw in agony, sinking even lower to the ground.

His mind was filled with horrible thoughts as he imagined his nakama, gossiping in hushed voices about a possible love affair.

_A love affair? Can it even be called such a stupid thing? _ Sanji thought to himself, falling deeper into despair, feeling utterly crippled by his remorse.

He had no idea why he thought the Crow's Nest would be some kind of safe-haven, where none of the crew would unexpectedly venture, as if Zoro would have locked the rest of the world out while they were alone together. He had been so foolish allow himself to by lulled by a false sense of security that he had conveyed to himself.

More horrible images flooded his mind, this time of each of his nakama approaching him, one by one, asking him about it, searching for information, prying... The worst part was that even in his fear-fueled daydreams—_more like day-nightmares_, he thought_—_he imagined the humiliating support they might show. That acknowledgment truly terrified him, as though their recognition of it would make it feel more real somehow.

He bit down on his lip, hard, until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. _Shit, this is really bad_. Pressing a shaking hand against his chest, he could feel his heart galloping like a wild stallion. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to move. It was so hard to do anything.

The only thing easy at that moment was the decision.

_That's the last time I will ever let this happen._

This time, there was no hesitation and no room for compromise. It simply had to be over.


	7. Chapter 7

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

As Sanji listlessly mucked about in the kitchen, he contemplated how the last couple of weeks had gone much smoother than he could have imagined.

He should have felt more pleased with himself; with stubborn determination, Sanji had somehow managed to avoid anything but the most minimal contact with Zoro. It had been much simpler than he thought.

Yet instead, he found himself agonizing over the notion that maybe, over the years, he had stupidly allowed himself to purposely get into situations where he would be alone with the shitty marimo. Maybe this thing was more beyond his control than he had ever anticipated.

If that was the case, though, then that decisive moment—that moment when Usopp had seen them together in the Crow's Nest, after Sanji had stupidly convinced himself no one would see them up there—truly had been the end. It had to be, unconditionally and unquestionably. Even if the period at the end of their sentence seemed to feel like an unbearable weight on his chest.

Sanji hadn't exactly conveyed his decision to Zoro. However, he was certain his refusal to have anything more than minimal exchanges with the swordsman had been explanation enough.

The cook felt confident in his ability to at least keep up the appearance of no longer having interest. Even if he didn't always understand what Zoro was thinking, he had some idea of how his disinterest must have felt to him... Apathy toward each other was far worse than any curses or kicks they could throw at each other. Zoro would get it soon, if he hadn't already.

In a way, the hollow feeling left inside him from burying away the feeling was a bit nostalgic. After all, he had done it once before; years had passed between the first time he had kissed Zoro at Thriller Bark, and the moment they shared at Coleherne Island.

Sanji sighed heavily. If that thing had never happened at Coleherne, he wasn't even sure if the two men would have ever been drawn together again. Just as with a woman, if the right romantic atmosphere was never set, feelings of love would never blossom; he was sure that if the mood never presented itself with the swordsman again, then whatever the hell had been starting to bud between them would probably wither beyond the point of resurrection.

He wasn't even sure how that made him feel.

As he absentmindedly put things away, he tiredly reflected on just how naïve and foolish he had been, to let himself be overtaken by such inane, faux-romantic feelings at Coleherne. How ridiculous his reasoning had been, to think he did not want that lapse of stagnant time to pass by him again. Now that he had seen the consequences of him being selfish instead of logical, he knew just what an ass he had been.

Maybe right now, he didn't exactly know what he wanted, but it sure as hell wasn't the panicked, unpalatable feeling that had plagued him lately. Even this emptiness was better than _that_.

And so, Sanji did whatever he could to avoid the swordsman. When they were on the ship, he timed everything so that from the moment he woke up in the morning to when he went to sleep, he wouldn't be alone with Zoro. When they were on shore, he did whatever he could to avoid the group Zoro was in. Even if there was something he really wanted to do, if Zoro was going, he opted to do something else. It had been almost laughingly simple.

There was no doubt Zoro was _trying_ to confront him, but Sanji had been very successful in his avoidance. He was quite confident he could keep this up until Zoro grew sick of it and gave up... even if it was a somewhat unsatisfying confidence.

But, as long as no one else interfered, he could continue evading the swordsman indefinitely; and he couldn't think of a reason anyone _would_ interfere.

A female voice suddenly jarred Sanji out of his trance.

"Sanji, would you mind making me some coffee?" Robin asked, staring at him calmly from the doorway of the kitchen.

Startled, Sanji nearly dropped the stack of plates he was putting away. But seamlessly, he righted himself. "Of course, Robin-chwan, I'll bring it to you in just a moment!" he called out affectionately, quickly abandoning the dishes to spring into action.

A few minutes later, he bounded toward the dining hall table, a cup and saucer balanced on his fingertips, where Robin was seated with a book in hand. "Here you are, Robin-chwan," he purred, elegantly setting the items in front of her. "Can I get you anything else?"

"Hmm, perhaps if there's something that might go well with the coffee?" she suggested, smiling faintly. "Maybe something sweet."

"Absolutely, I know just the thing," he exclaimed, rushing back toward the kitchen.

"Oh, and Sanji?" she called after him.

"Yes, Robin-chwan?" he spun around to look at her.

"Won't you join me, as well?"

A sickeningly doting smile broke out over Sanji's face. "How could I turn down Robin-chwan's invitation? Of course I will, just a moment," he called out a bit too excitedly as he headed into the kitchen, practically floating as he rushed to put together a plate of fruit and chocolates.

There was a nagging voice in the back of his head telling him that this was very suspicious. However, just her brief appearance had been enough to pull him out of his mopish gloom, so he decided to ignore his skeptical feelings and simply enjoy his time alone with her.

Eagerly, he joined her at the table, focusing on enjoying the coffee and conversation. He easily lost track of the time that passed by as they chatted.

In fact, he did not even think about how late it was growing, and how likely it was that most of the crew had gone to bed, until he heard the door to the dining hall open. He glanced over, wondering who it could be.

His expression instantly turned cold as he laid his eyes on the grim-looking swordsman, who stared at him with apparent displeasure.

Sanji looked at Robin again, the smile back on face, although a bit more forced than before. "Are you all done, Robin-chwan? Or can I get you anything else?"

He started to get up, anxious to clear the table and leave now that the shitty marimo had shown up, but all of the sudden the dark-haired woman smiled mysteriously as she raised her arms, crossing them in front of her.

"_Seis Fleur,"_ she said calmly, her unreadable gaze fixed on Sanji.

The cook already knew what was about to happen, but he didn't move fast enough to avoid it. Six arms suddenly sprouted from his chair, wrapping around his body and firmly holding him in place.

"What are you doing?!" he cried out, staring at Robin in awe.

Wordlessly, Robin stood up and walked over to Zoro. "Do you need me to hold him down while you talk?" she asked calmly.

Sanji stared at her in disbelief. "Robin-chwan?" he cried out, a bit pathetically.

Zoro shook his head. "No, I can take it from here," he replied. "I owe you, though."

"Not at all," Robin replied coolly, glancing back at Sanji with that faint, indecipherable smile still on her lips.

"Robin-chwan?" Sanji called out again, even more pitifully than before. His head spun as he tried to grasp why the hell was she helping the shitty swordsman.

Then she disappeared through the door, and a few moments later, the arms pinning him down vanished.

"What the hell did you tell her, shitty marimo?" Sanji demanded furiously, springing to his feet. He knew he probably should have bolted for the door, but now he was far too enraged to avoid a confrontation. Angrily, he pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, jamming it between his teeth forcefully.

Zoro took a few steps closer to him. "Nothing. I just said I needed to talk to you for a minute. She's the one who thought this up."

Sanji clenched his jaw. "There was no reason to involve Robin-chwan."

"I didn't want to," Zoro said angrily, raising his voice. "I couldn't figure out how the hell else to talk to you, though."

The cook furrowed his brow, taking a pensive drag off of his cigarette. His fury was nearly bubbling over, but with chagrin, he realized he had partially brought this on himself, and his rage started to gradually subside.

Yes, he was at least a little bit to blame. He should have said it plainly to begin with, so there was no room for misinterpretation.

"Alright," Sanji said with a weary sigh, exhaling smoke as he spoke. "I was wrong to not tell you earlier—but I'll say it now so you won't have any more wrong ideas." He looked at Zoro, dead-on, his expression darkening. "This stupid thing that has been going on between us is going to stop."

Sanji did not think anything else needed to be said, so with those words, he tried to walk past Zoro to exit the room. However, a forceful hand clamped down on his shoulder, stopping him.

"Oi, you think I'm going to be satisfied with that, after I went to all this trouble to get you here?" The swordsman's strong fingers squeezed his shoulder painfully.

"There's nothing left to talk about," Sanji replied. He was surprised to hear a slight quaver in his voice as he spoke; after all, he was sure that he was completely resolute in his decision.

"There is!" the swordsman bellowed, a bit too loudly, a startling expression of anguish on his face as he shouted. Perplexed, Zoro bit down on his lip, clenching his eye closed as he tried to regain his composure.

"Bastard, do you think I wanted to have to ask for _help _to get you here?" he finally uttered with difficulty.

"I'm disappointed that you got Robin-chwan involved in something like this," Sanji replied.

"It wasn't what I wanted to do. But, I didn't see another way, either."

"Then don't do it at all!" Sanji barked.

"You said you wouldn't ignore it!" Zoro barked back, yanking Sanji violently toward him until he was standing in front of him and they were forced to face each other directly.

Sanji glanced downward, feeling far too close to the other man's face. "What the hell are you talking about, shitty swordsman?"

"Remember," he said sternly, as more of a command than a question. "When we were on that fucking island you were so terrified of... You said you'd try not to ignore it anymore."

The cook's jaw dropped slightly, but he did not know how to reply. He was astounded that Zoro had remembered such a thing, let alone brought it up. That night at Coleherne Island, that had sparked that flame he had been trying to snuff out for such a long time… He indeed remembered the conversation.

"_Then will you stop ignoring it, at least?"_

"_Tch, again, what am I supposed to say to that..."_

"_It's a yes or no question. I don't get what's so hard about answering that."_

"_Of course it's hard!"_

Sanji closed his eyes and buried his face in his hand, a wave of remorse washing over him as he recalled his answer.

"_Maybe. That's all I'm saying for now." _

"Ah, I did say something stupid like that, didn't I," he muttered. After regaining his composure again, he looked up at Zoro, his eyes dark. "Well, I did try it, and I've decided it was the wrong thing to do."

The finality of his tone was enough. The swordsman released his grip and took a step back, staring downward. When he finally spoke again, his voice was far more subdued. "Huh, I guess that _is_ all we had to talk about, then."

"I guess so," Sanji murmured. He stepped aside and started to step past him.

"I didn't want to feel this way about an ero-cook like you, either," Zoro stated resignedly as Sanji walked by him.

He wasn't sure if it was the defeated tone or the startling words that made him stop, but either way, he did.

Sanji scolded himself for all of the flip-flopping his mind was doing whenever it came to matters involving Zoro. Wasn't it simpler when they just insulted each other and fought occasionally?

But the truth was, it has been so long since his feelings toward the other man were purely platonic, he could not even remember what that was like anymore...

The only thing he could remember was when he realized, deep in his mind, that no matter what, acting on any of his impulses was _forbidden_. No matter what he may have imagined doing in the darkest parts of his mind, he was able to stop himself from going too far.

Now, he was trying to lock away those feelings again, but it was so hard to do when Zoro was right there, speaking such uncharacteristically emotional words. It was so hard, when he knew if he reached out to touch him, he would respond with that lustful expression that left him aching for more.

"Dammit, why do you make everything so hard, you shitty marimo," Sanji complained. He puffed on his cigarette agitatedly, trying to will his feet to move forward.

"You want to hear more?" Zoro asked lowly.

"No, I don't," Sanji replied, but there was no conviction behind his words. He still did not take a step; he felt his heart start to pump a bit more forcefully as he wondered what else the other man could possibly say.

Zoro glanced over at him for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the floor. "Fine, then I'll just talk. I don't give a damn if you listen or not."

The swordsman's expression was grave as he studied the floor, as though it was hard for him to summon the words he wanted to say. When he finally spoke, it was with great difficulty that he formed the consonants.

"When I woke up on Thriller Bark, I remember you were there. In fact, the first couple of times I was awake, you were there every time, so I knew you must've been checking in on me a lot. You were trying to act like a bastard, but it was the look on your face that I couldn't get past. I don't know if anybody else noticed it, but I sure as hell did." He paused for a moment, his brow furrowing even more deeply. When he spoke the next sentence, there was a faint but unmistakable quaver in his voice. "Nobody's ever looked at me like that before."

Sanji knitted his brow.

"Then after that," Zoro continued, "when we were alone, and you kissed me—"

"_You_ kissed _me,_" Sanji interrupted. "At least get your shitty story right, marimo."

Zoro glanced over at him, openly surprised that Sanji had chimed in, and for the briefest moment, a wry grin crossed his face before his expression turned serious again. "Tch, fine, I kissed you. What I'm trying to say is, after that, I never stopped looking at you."

An agonizingly long pause followed.

Sanji's brow twitched as he stared at Zoro, a bit more expectantly than he wanted to admit to himself, as he waited for the other man to say something else to wrap up his puzzling monologue. Finally, he realized the swordsman had nothing left to say.

"That's it?" Sanji finally said. "You never stopped looking at me? What the hell does that even mean?" he muttered indignantly. With apparent frustration, he started clearing the cups and dishes on the table. He had long since forgotten his original goal of leaving the room altogether, and he needed to keep his hands busy with something.

"It means I noticed a lot about you," Zoro replied to Sanji's mostly rhetorical question, a bit too simply. "And I'll probably keep doing it, too, no matter what dumbass decision you're going to force on me to make yourself feel better."

The words cut, but the cook didn't know how to respond to them. With nothing left on the table to bus, Sanji hurriedly headed to the kitchen to clean the few dishes he and Robin had used. To his dismay, he felt Zoro's looming presence follow him. As Sanji set the dishes down in the sink, Zoro stood in the doorway, faintly gnawing on his lip as if he still had more to say.

"Is that all?" Sanji asked impatiently, looking up from the dishes.

Zoro narrowed his eye. "Yeah, that's it."

"Then why don't you get the hell out of here."

The swordsman crossed his arms and glared at Sanji, a blend of fury and dejection in his eye. "You don't get it," he said flatly.

"Get what?" Sanji snapped irritably. "You watched me. Okay." He shrugged his shoulders, his hands still preoccupied with agitatedly scrubbing the dishes. "You're watching me right now. Fine. Are you getting anything out of it?" Sanji incrementally raised his voice as he spoke, loudly clanging the glassware together. "Is it making even a damn difference?" he said, finally shouting, emphasizing his frustration by slamming a clean glass down a little too hard on the drying rack. The sound of cracking glass echoed across the room.

Sanji was too busy glaring at Zoro, trying to steady his ragged breathing, to even bother looking at the broken glass or notice the fresh cut on his hand.

After another infinitely long pause, Zoro finally responded, his expression and tone provokingly calm. "It means I noticed you were looking at me, too."

Sanji wasn't sure if it was the implication of his words, or the composure the other man managed to keep in response to his own outburst, but he felt as though all of the rage that had been building up inside of himself suddenly drained away.

There were so many directions he felt he should steer their argument into… Such a wide spectrum of feelings he wanted to impose on Zoro, to let him know all of the miserable, despondent emotions he had been experiencing. He wanted to shout. He wanted to fight him—to kick the swordsman right in that stupidly sorrowful face he was making, that face that didn't fit him at all, as he waited for a response that he was clearly not looking forward to hearing.

There were so many other things he wished he could think about, besides the remembrance of the painful feeling he had when he made those expressions Zoro was referring to, when Sanji spent his days watching the swordsman teeter in and out of a consciousness that may have been his last.

There were so many words Sanji wanted to say, to do, but for some reason, when he finally spoke, he only heard a rueful voice that barely sounded like his own, uttering words that he was sure were far too pitiful to come out of his mouth.

"How the hell do you think I felt, seeing you like that?"

A flicker of uncertainly reflected in Zoro's eye.

Sanji covered his face with his hand. "I mean, it's not like it was the first time I saw you hurt. Hell, I've seen you fight when you weren't even recovered from injuries that would've probably killed most people. But seeing you like that… Knowing what you did, why you did it…" he trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to say. That awful vision filled his mind again; Zoro's damaged body, dripping crimson, blood pooling on the ground.

"I probably know exactly how you felt," Zoro said carefully, finally stepping out of the doorway and into the kitchen, hesitantly heading toward Sanji, the sound of his slow footsteps and rumbling voice seeming to fill the kitchen. "You keep complaining about what I did, but you tried to take my place first."

Sanji's head shot up as he met Zoro's gaze. "What the hell, that's not the same at all," he scowled deeply.

"I'm saying it is, dumbass cook," the green-haired man insisted.

Suddenly, Zoro was closer than he realized. He felt a warm touch against his skin, as the swordsman reached out and softly grazed his cheek with the side of his hand.

The cook inhaled sharply, surprised at the touch, and the fluttery feeling it caused inside of his stomach and chest.

Was this really the same touch he had sworn he never wanted to feel again, just a short while ago? Did he truly think it wasn't worth all the trouble it caused?

As Zoro came closer to him—or maybe he was the one drawing nearer, he could no longer tell—he found himself unable to recollect why he felt that was the answer. All of the shame and embarrassment of the rest of the crew finding out about something as ridiculous as he and the swordsman being _like this_ with each other suddenly didn't seem nearly as appalling as the thought of pulling away.

The hand that had brushed his cheek slid behind his head, entangling its fingers in his hair, the nimble fingertips softly stroking the nape of his neck. Another hand reached forward toward him, finding its place somewhere along his back.

When their lips touched, the first thing Sanji noticed was the heat. The warmth of Zoro's lips seemed to burn into his skin, in an enticing, sensual way that made him desperately want to lap it up. With a mouth burning at such a perfect temperature, there was no way he could resist devouring it.

Or perhaps he was the one being devoured. Before he knew it, he realized that the same tender hands that had gently caressed him moments before had forcibly pushed him back against the counter, so that he could feel the edge digging into him, just below his lower back. He had no idea how the swordsman had managed to conquer that much ground, but for some reason, just this once, he didn't actually care if he was overtaken a little bit.

He was far too focused on that mouth. Surprisingly soft, somehow gentle yet terrifying, like at any moment it could eat him alive. A rough hand slipped under his shirt, and he cried out in surprise at the feeling of skin on skin. Unconsciously, he ground his body against Zoro's, feeling that hard, satisfying confirmation that they were both burning with a similar passion.

When Zoro pulled away and their lips broke contact, Sanji found himself outraged at the separation. He dug his nails into the swordsman's broad, muscular back, urging him closer again. Then he felt scorching lips graze his neck.

He tried to let out a cry, but it came out as more of a strangled whimper. Gasping for air, he clutched onto Zoro, unable to make a coherent sound to tell him to stop; but maybe that was for the best, because deep down, he didn't really want him to.

Consumed by lust, Sanji could only string together a single, intelligible thought. He found himself repeating it over and over, with each wave of pleasure surging through his body as Zoro found another place to rub his tongue, mouth, hands, that made Sanji want to crumble to his knees.

_What the hell was I thinking? _

No matter how many times he repeated it, he couldn't remember why he thought the embarrassment of others finding out could possibly be worse than not being able to experience this.

Tangling his fingers in the swordsman's hair, Sanji finally gained enough coherence to be able to properly respond. He leaned forward and softly nibbled at Zoro's right earlobe. The muffled, rumbling cry that came out of the swordsman's mouth was like no sound he had heard from him before. He wanted to make the other man repeat it, over and over, until he was satisfied, but it was so hard to concentrate while a tongue and lips were greedily tracing his collarbone.

Their bodies pressed against each other, legs intertwined, pelvises grinding together. Zoro's hand had slipped further up his shirt; so far, in fact, that Sanji could feel cool air billowing against his exposed abdomen, where he assumed his shirt was pulled up.

But he didn't care. Still clutching a fistful of green hair, he wrapped his other arm firmly around the swordsman's broad back, so that he couldn't pull away even if he wanted to.

He heard a gasp that sounded much different than all of Zoro's previous lustful cries—almost startled. In surprise, he paused to look at Zoro, who had also fixed his gaze back on him with a similarly befuddled expression. In an instant, however, they both came to the same conclusion; that gasp hadn't been from either one of them.

In horror, Sanji turned toward the doorway of the kitchen. He was met with an abysmally blank stare.

Maybe blank wasn't the right way to put it—but he did find himself staring into two hollow, empty sockets. Perhaps the only thing to indicate the skeleton's shock was his jaw, which dropped so low, it was practically unhinged.

Sanji and Zoro were also too shocked to move, apparently. The cook inhaled sharply—he did not even dare imagine what they looked like at that moment.

"Oh my. My eyes must be playing tricks on me," Brook said composedly, staring at them.

Sanji was too petrified to move; Zoro seemed to be in a similar predicament.

Brook tilted his head slightly. "Oh, but I don't have have any."

Still, the two men did not move. Sanji found himself desperately wishing Zoro would at least take his hand out of his damn shirt.

"Yo-hohohoooo..." Brook laughed suddenly, making a graceful retreat as he slowly backed out of the doorway until he was no longer visible.

A moment later, he heard the creak of the door to the dining hall close—_why the hell didn't it creak that loud when he was coming _in? Sanji thought with frustration—and they were alone again.

Then the panic set in; that fight-or-flight sensation that left him trembling to his very core. Aggressively, he tried to shove Zoro away, managing to shake loose the hand that had been creeping under his shirt and put a few inches in between them.

Powerful hands grasping his wrists momentarily halted his struggle, however. After a moment, Sanji tried to renew his efforts, but he was unable to shake himself free from the swordsman's impervious grip.

"Just wait a minute," Zoro commanded, shoving Sanji backward, pinning his back against the counter while holding his arms in place at his side. "What the hell do you think running away is going to do now?"

"Let go of me, you bastard," Sanji responded through clenched teeth, still trying to free himself.

Unexpectedly, a stupidly hard head cracked against his own forehead, stunning him. He winced in surprise, wondering what the hell the shitty marimo was thinking.

"Shut up and listen to me," Zoro said, his eye tightly squeezed closed; surely he, too, was seeing stars from the head-butt.

"Why the hell should I," Sanji muttered with frustration, trying to ignore the pain; however, he did momentarily halt his struggling.

"That—" Zoro started, nodding his head in the direction of the doorway, obviously referring to Brook's inopportune entrance, "—That just happened. You can run and avoid me like before, but nothing is going to undo it."

"It doesn't mean I should keep letting it happen, just because you spout off a shitty philosophy at me," Sanji protested, averting his gaze from Zoro's intense stare, feeling uneasy about how easy it was to go with the flow when it came to the swordsman's fiery touch.

Swallowing hard, Sanji tried to ignore the stinging pain of his own hypocrisy. Mere moments ago, he had been wondering how he could have ever wanted to give it up—now he was ready to back out again. Why did it have to be so much easier to think he knew what he wanted than it was to actually have the balls to go through with it?

"Tch, why shouldn't you?" Zoro replied, his inflexible grip on his wrists started to subside as the swordsman continued speaking. "At some point, everyone's going to find out anyway."

Sanji stared at him disbelievingly. "How can you say it like it's no big deal… I don't want to deal with something that troublesome."

The swordsman's brow twitched. "It'll happen whether you want it to or not, stupid dartboard-brow."

"Then we should stop." Sanji replied. "How the hell can you be so casual about this?!"

"I'm not being casual about this—I've been worrying about the same damn things as you!" Zoro bellowed.

A flicker of surprise crossed Sanji's face; he had not expected such a fierce response.

"But I made a _decision_…" Zoro continued, his voice still raised, "and I'm going to stick with it, instead of pussyfooting back and forth about what I want to do like a damn brat."

Sanji's face contorted into a sneer. "Bastard, are you saying that's what I'm doing?"

Zoro looked at him condescendingly. "Damn right I am. Every time you act like you've made up your mind, you find an excuse to back out of it when the smallest thing happens."

"Having one of our nakama see you with your hand up my shirt isn't a 'small thing,' shitty marimo," Sanji disagreed. With difficulty, he tried to gather his words. "It's not that I'm saying I don't want this at all… but I don't want to face everyone about it, either. I don't know what to do to—"

"No one can get anything they want without sacrifice!" Zoro interrupted angrily, the hands around Sanji's wrists tightening again as the swordsman pressed his muscular body against him.

The intensity of his words—not to mention the pressure of his body again his own—left Sanji feeling momentarily breathless.

"You think I'm okay with this?!" Zoro continued angrily. "You think I would _choose_ to have everybody find out? Because I fucking wouldn't. But if I want anything, there's something else I've got to give up."

Zoro's vehement gaze bore into him, and as desperately as he wanted to turn away, Sanji could not help but stare back. Looking at the swordsman's expression, he felt like his own feelings were being mirrored back at him; mortification, panic… and somewhere beneath it all, a simple want.

He became aware of how wildly his heart was pounding; he was sure Zoro could feel it, as their bodies pressed together so closely. But as he concentrated for a moment, the cook realized he could feel the other man's chest pounding as well.

For some reason, that racing heart surprised and captivated him. It was the second time he had noticed such a thing. Sanji unconsciously raised his hand and pressed it against the swordsman's chest.

An emotion that he thought might be embarrassment flickered across Zoro's face; with a faint blush, the green-haired man averted his gaze. But even if it made the other man a bit uncomfortable, Sanji did not pull away; he was too busy marveling over the breakneck speed of the other man's pounding heart.

It wasn't the reaction of a person who was being casual about what was happening, Sanji realized. It was someone who was just as distressed as he was… Once again, Sanji found himself in awe of Zoro's absence of hesitation, though. Just like that night on Coleherne Island, when he had patiently waited for Sanji to come to his decision—however halfhearted it may have been.

The other man's unwavering determination made him start to feel foolish inside. Zoro was right; he had to make a choice.

_So I need to sacrifice something, huh_… Sanji thought. He idly wondered if the thing he had to give up would be the comfort he found in his life.

But even if that was the case, to hell with it all.

Resolutely, Sanji stretched his arms outward, cupping his hands around the sides of Zoro's face. The hint of astonishment in the other man's eye made his heart skip; the small smile creeping at the corner of his lip that immediately followed made it skip again. And the feverish lips covering his own made it pound wildly out of control.

"Even if it gets hard," Zoro murmured in between ardent kisses, "I won't back down… My mind is made up."

"Tch, aren't you embarrassed at all, talking like that," Sanji replied, pressing his lips against Zoro's neck, murmuring his words into his burning skin. He felt Zoro shudder in delight.

"It's not embarrassing to resolve to do something," he replied, his voice a bit strained as he tried to hold back his pleasurable moans. "I don't know exactly what might need to be done, because I sure as hell haven't felt like this about anyone before. But since I've made up my mind, I won't be half-assed about it."

Sanji felt his cheeks redden. "I'm not some woman in need of a love confession," he muttered, his lips now near Zoro's ear. He nibbled at his earlobe softly, causing the swordsman's earring to jangle slightly.

"I didn't think you were," he responded when he could speak again.

Strong arms fiercely wrapped around him, forcing him closer, as smoldering lips crushed against his own, holding him in a kiss so fiery and suffocating that when they finally pulled away, he found himself gasping for air. It was like the conflagration of the other man's kiss was stealing all his oxygen away.

"I don't know what it means to be in love with somebody," Zoro murmured again, planting kisses along Sanji's mouth and jaw, eager hands rubbing sensually over the fabric of his pants along the inside of his thigh. "But you don't seem like you'll mind very much if I don't do it the way I'm supposed to." Sanji shivered in pleasure as the hand slowly crept upwards.

Still the swordsman continued speaking, his baritone voice making Sanji's heart feel like it was trembling. "And I don't care if you're in love with a thousand women, just as long as you're only in love with one man."

The cook's jaw parted slightly in astonishment. As the words sunk in, he realized it was a momentous comment for Zoro to make; even if he didn't really get what the hell the strange sentiment was supposed to mean, his words felt as real and impactful as a blow to his chest. There was no way he could hold it back for long, though...

He pulled back for a moment, clapping a hand over his mouth, observing the uncharacteristic blush on Zoro's cheeks. The swordsman averted his gaze, as though unable to take Sanji staring at him at that moment.

And then he couldn't hold it back anymore. At first, he tried to only let out a small chuckle, but after a moment, Sanji was roaring with laughter.

"The hell, shitty marimo... that... was such a... corny line," he cracked up, his eyes starting to tear.

Zoro's cheeks turned redder. "Oi, shut up, ero-cook!" he growled, shoving Sanji away from him, a slightly confused look on his face.

Sanji wasn't quite sure how to take Zoro's hackneyed comment, and he wasn't really in the mindset to mull it over too much. There was one thing he was certain of, however, and that was that the short space separating them felt far too large. Reaching out his hand to clutch the back of Zoro's head, he yanked the green-haired man back toward him, pulling him into a greedy kiss.

"Well, I'm pretty familiar with how damn stubborn you are when you make up your mind about something," Sanji commented when they briefly pulled their mouths apart, "so I guess I have some idea of how hard it's going to be for me to get out of this now."

"Ah," Zoro nodded. He started to lean forward so their lips could meet again.

Just as Sanji started to lean forward to meet the kiss, however, Zoro suddenly pulled his head away.

"Although it's going to be hard to put up with a stupid ero-cook more than I already have to," Zoro muttered, rubbing his chin as though deep in thought.

Sanji glared. "Tch, can't be worse than a shitty swordsman who doesn't know how to restrain himself."

"You're right, I really don't," Zoro agreed, resuming their kiss with a renewed energy.

This time it was Sanji's hand that slipped into Zoro's shirt, marveling once again over how his body seemed to be almost broiling as they pressed against each other.

With each touch against his skin, each stroke of their tongues sliding past each other, each grind against one another, Sanji felt his desire grow stronger.

He began to wonder what the next step was, in something like this... what they should do. The throbbing beneath his constrictive pants was almost unbearable.

The erotic slide of a hand against the clothes over his groin made him cry out. Sanji's face flushed a deep shade of red as he panted heavily, while he let the swordsman devour the sensitive skin by his neck and clavicle.

He felt like he could have continued like that forever; lost in pleasurable sensations, barely able to sense anything around him besides the other man's heated body. But it was actually Zoro who began to slow his movements, until finally their touching had regressed back into a simple, gentle kiss.

"I'm sleeping in the men's quarters tonight," Zoro said suddenly, out of nowhere, abruptly separating their lips.

Sanji was taken aback.

"Hah? You're not sleeping in the Crow's Nest?"

Zoro shook his head negatively. "Not tonight, no."

"The hell, but I..." Sanji trailed off, realizing he was about to unthinking say he was going to sleep up there with him.

The swordsman smirked, lightly scratching the outline of Sanji's jaw with a fingertip, tracing his finger over the coarse hair of his goatee. "What, you were gonna join me, ero-cook?" he finished the sentence. Before Sanji could try to deny it, he shook his head again, pulling his hand away from Sanji's face.

"See, that's the reason why." The swordsman peeled his body away from Sanji's, and the cook felt an aching throb as soon as they were no longer touching.

For some reason, Sanji suddenly felt very aggravated. Zoro's inexplicable halt seemed to come out of nowhere, and somewhere deep down, he had sort of been hoping something would happen.

In fact, with Zoro's pushy behavior, he expected to be led right into it... Even if he wasn't ready to make a move himself, or even if he realized it was a mistake later, he could have blamed the other man.

Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Zoro turned back and smirked, a mirthful gleam in his eye. "Let's say I'm getting back at you for the last couple of weeks, ero-cook."

"Bastard," Sanji growled, but the swordsman had already retreated, presumably to head down to the men's quarters.

The cook adjusted his clothes uncomfortably. Honestly, he didn't see how Zoro was able to walk so casually at the moment... He was going to need at least a few minutes to cool down before he was ready to leave the kitchen.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

Sanji had spent a good portion of his evening seated at a table next to Nami, and he could not have been more pleased.

The tavern they were in had a somewhat rustic feel to it—everything made out of wood, the smell of years of liquor accumulating in its oaky pores, and patrons that looked like they had slowly started to grow into the shape of their seats, after sitting in them every night for probably decades.

But even with most of the members of the boisterous strawhat crew inside, the regular patrons and the bartender alike didn't seem to mind the interruption. Considering the vast quantities of alcohol they were all consuming, there was no way they could complain. He knew Nami would be devastated when it came time to pay, but for now, she was cheerful. (Not that she had much room to complain, as she had probably had more than anyone—although that certainly wouldn't stop her from complaining.)

Sanji and Nami sat at a table which seated four, located by one end of the bar's long countertop. Throughout the night, the crew mates who sat in the free pair of seats rotated, but Sanji had been able to sit next to Nami all night.

_Nami-swan, this is the best evening of my life_, he thought dreamily, unable to restrain his gushing feelings.

"I keep trying to get the attention of the bartender, but he's ignoring me," Nami huffed, tapping the side of her empty glass impatiently. She stared at the bar longingly, and Sanji could barely peel his eyes away from her adorable pouting lips.

"Unforgivable, how could he ignore Nami-swan?" Sanji tried to sound outraged, but he could not strip the doting sing-song tone from his voice as he watched her.

"Sanji, would you mind going over there and getting me another?" She asked, turning toward the cook and staring at him with large, fluttery brown eyes.

"Of course, Nami-swaaaan," he cooed, jumping up abruptly as he practically danced over to the bar.

Truly, spending the evening with Nami had been amazing, although their conversations had mostly spun in a similar direction. After all, how could he be anything but completely enthralled by whatever the beautiful navigator had to say? Doting on her made him feel so happy, his heart could just burst.

The bartender was, indeed, far too fixated on his patrons at the other end of the long bar; but as soon as Sanji saw why, he immediately understood. There were two gorgeous women with bombshell bodies, clad in skin-tight, revealing dresses, who were mercilessly flirting with him. Even he found himself quickly needing to turn away, or else his nose may have started to gush blood.

_Still, Nami-swan is far more exquisite,_ he thought competitively.

Finally catching the bartender's attention long enough to get another drink—two, actually, as he, too, was running low—he hurried back to the table, gracefully balancing the overflowing glasses without spilling a drop despite his nearly-dancing pace back to where Nami was.

When he returned to the table, however, his face darkened; there was a shitty swordsman sitting in the previously empty seat across from Nami. For a lengthy moment, he stared at the green-haired man, his face tucked into a slight grimace as he clutched the glasses a little too tightly. Then he snapped out of it and set a glass on the table in front of the navigator.

"Here you are, Nami-swaaan," he gushed, theatrically setting down the glass.

"Thanks, Sanji!" she replied, immediately grabbing the glass to take a sip. As she brought the glass to her mouth, her intelligent eyes flickered toward Sanji. He felt like, for a moment, her gaze seemed very piercing, as though she were trying to read something—but then she took a big sip and slammed the glass back on the table, grinning broadly. He brushed it off as being his imagination.

He glanced at Zoro one more time, and abruptly turned around.

Sanji took a seat near Luffy, Franky and Brook, who were seated at the bar, causing a tremendous racket. He could not even tell just what they were laughing about so heartily, but he had not exchanged many words with them that evening, and the thought of sitting at the table with the swordsman seemed distasteful.

He stole a glance back in their direction a couple of times, noticing with irritation that Zoro was paying no attention to him, even after the cook had so blatantly shunned him. Instead, he was engaged in a conversation with Nami and Usopp, who had just sat at the table with them. Well, as engaged as he tended to get—mostly downing his drink while throwing in a few aggravating comments from time to time. Or at least, Sanji assumed they were aggravating; that's how he felt whenever the swordsman opened his mouth.

The remembrance of that burning mouth popped into his mind, and he bit down on his lip. That wasn't what he wanted to think about right now.

Nami glanced over her shoulder, and once again, he noticed that astute gaze fixed on him.

_Oh, Nami-swaaaaaan_, he thought with glee as she openly stared at him. Yes, Nami's attention was more than enough to keep his mind from drifting to the fickle swordsman... But as she turned away, he felt a twinge of apprehension in his stomach. Something about her look had made him feel inexplicably uneasy. He turned his attention back toward his drink.

"Oiii, Sanji, we need food," Luffy shouted, his face suddenly right next to Sanji's ear.

Sanji raised an eyebrow at him. "We ate before we came. Besides, the food here looks a little..." he trailed off, casting a sidelong glance at a few of the tables at the far corner of the room. Indeed, there were a few sketchy-looking plates of finger-foods scattered throughout, but it looked very unsavory.

"But it's no fun drinking when we're not eating," Luffy protested, crossing his arms.

Sanji took a drag off of his cigarette, contemplating what he should do. He was still slightly troubled by the look on Nami's face, but he definitely couldn't ignore Luffy or he might do something unfathomable—like order all of the food in the tavern's pantries.

There was no way he was going to convince his voracious captain to wait until they got back to the ship, however, so he needed to do something. "Alright, let me look at the menu and I'll order a few things." Finishing the rest of his drink, Sanji got up from his stool and wandered over to the bartender, who was finally beginning to pay attention to his other patrons again, now that the two bubbling ladies had fixed their attention elsewhere.

When he got his hands on the meager menu, however, he frowned deeply. Reluctantly, he ordered a few things that seemed the least unpalatable—enough to keep Luffy appeased until they returned to the Sunny, at least—and started to head back to the empty seat next to his captain.

For a third time, Sanji noticed a glance from Nami in his direction. This time, however, he did not feel even a hint of elation over it. Though she had only looked over for a split second, her penetrating gaze seemed to bore right through him. A moment later, Usopp, who was now the only other person seated at the table with her, peeked in his direction as well.

Sanji felt the hair on the back of his neck rise. The way the pair was leaning in closely to each other, clearly speaking in hushed voices, did not bode well at all. Suddenly, the cook felt like he needed some fresh air.

"I ordered a couple of things," Sanji said to Luffy as he approached him. "It'll be out soon."

"Hooray, meat!"

"Tch, there's not the kind of meat you want in a place like this," Sanji warned. _Even if there was, it would probably be unsafe to order_, he thought. "So don't expect much. I'll make you something better when we get back to the Sunny."

"Even better!" Luffy shouted enthusiastically.

With a nod, Sanji excused himself from the group—which now consisted of Nami, Usopp and Brook at the table, and Luffy and Franky at the bar—and headed for the door. It wasn't until he had stepped outside and lit a new cigarette that he realized he didn't see where Zoro had gone off to.

He almost expected the green-haired man to sneak up behind him, and to hear that rumbling voice in his ear. A shiver ran down his spine just imagining it.

Leaning against the front of the tavern, he quietly puffed on his cigarette and watched the town, most of which was already sleeping. Other than the tavern and a few homes in the distance, the entire place was dark and almost eerily quiet. No wonder there seemed to be so many regulars at the bar.

The two knockout women who had been monopolizing the bartender's time suddenly burst out of the bar—well, perhaps stumbled was a better word. Barely able to totter along in their high heels, they haphazardly made their way forward, stopping at a tree a short distance away.

"Aww, she isn't here yet," pouted the shorter woman, a busty blonde wearing a red dress that seemed to be painted to her skin. "We could've stayed longer."

The taller, auburn-haired woman clamped onto Busty-blonde's arm. "No way, she'd be so angry if I made her go in that place to find me again." She was a bit less voluptuous, but her short skirt revealed an amazing, long pair of legs that led up to an indescribably exquisite rear-end.

"I don't know why she insists on coming to get us every single time," Busty-blonde whined again.

Enshrouded in darkness, Sanji's eyes wandered up and down the two women's bodies lecherously. These were the kind of tantalizing women that made him swoon, that made his knees go weak and diminished him to a love-sick fool—they made him want to devote everything to being their love-slave, no matter how fleeting his attraction was. Even now, his heart was all aflutter with lovey-dovey sensations.

Every inch of them seemed to be perfectly contoured. As Busty-blonde bent over to fix a strap on her shoe, he got a better glimpse of her slightly rounder, but equally delectable ass. Auburn-legs absentmindedly twirled a strand of wavy hair in her hand, delicious lips adorably pursed.

They were both just too irresistible for him to deny how he felt; it was surely love.

Indeed, this was a pattern that had always repeated itself. The cook just couldn't help it. Beautiful women used to always be on his mind, so that every spare thought in his head was filled with flowing hair and lipstick and bouncing breasts and lacey under-things.

_U__sed to__, _he thought with chagrin. Sanji's expression darkened, and he took a slightly more agitated drag from his cigarette. Sure, he still had those kinds of thoughts—probably more than what was healthy. But now, another person had been occupying his mind, who had not a single trait that fit those lovely feminine qualities the cook adored so much...

Suddenly a short brunette with hair tied back in a smart ponytail rushed toward the two women—just as Auburn-legs stumbled on her heels, barely keeping her balance by clutching the tree, her inebriation clearly apparent.

Ponytail-girl was not nearly as attractive as the other two, Sanji observed. She was less shapely, and wore dowdy clothes so he could barely see what she actually had. Her face was a bit more plain, and she didn't seem to stand out very much. Not compared to the shining beauties she was approaching, anyway.

"Nee-chan," Auburn-legs cried out in surprise as she gripped the tree trunk, struggling to regain her footing.

Ponytail-girl scowled. "I knew it! I told you not to overdo it, but you never listen to me..." As her expression grew angry, however, her plain face suddenly seemed to be far more fetching. Her lips formed a sort of natural pout, and her narrow brows knitting splendidly. She also adorably put one hand on her hip and shook her hand at her sister as she scolded her.

_This kind of girl is pretty cute, too_, Sanji thought, suddenly seeing her in a whole new light as he studied her, his expression gradually turning more and more lascivious. He grinned stupidly, feeling a blush creep over his face. He imagined himself pulling her close, cuddling and ogling her, and her yelling at him to stop, calling him a pervert with that delicate, childish voice that somehow managed to sound so angry.

Sanji's heart fluttered at the thought of it—he felt like he had been struck by cupid's arrow for the third time in just a couple minute span, and it made him feel giddy with pleasure.

And suddenly, the words of a shitty marimo skipped through his head, sending his lovely fantasy crashing back down to earth.

"_I don't care if you're in love with a thousand women, just as long as you're only in love with one man."_

A realization dawned on him that he wasn't ready for. His lungs momentarily seemed to stop working, and he clutched at his mouth, trying to hold back the choking cough that threatened to leave his throat. The three women left, but Sanji barely noticed as he struggled to breathe again.

Sure, those bizarre words had flickered across his mind a few times, but he hadn't spared any time to really mull them over. It had been such a ridiculous thing to say, he had just chalked it up to Zoro trying to string some weird rigmarole together in a failed attempt to be slightly sentimental.

So the comment, no matter how many times it came to mind, had been quickly brushed off after a silent chuckle. It had been so corny and so nonsensical. There was no need to analyze it; it was just the best pseudo-caring words the swordsman could come up with. The marimo had said he didn't really know what he was supposed to do, after all.

But as Sanji stared at the tree where the three lovely women had been standing just moments before, the context hit him square in the chest, heavy as an anchor. He was breathing, but he was starting to feel like his heart might actually stop.

Abruptly, he headed back inside of the tavern. He wasn't ready to fully explore the notion that Zoro may have actually said something with meaning behind it—something so unspeakably devastating.

He quickly sat down with some of his crew mates again, who now had a few plates of unsatisfying-looking foods on their table that he didn't care to partake in. He had another drink and managed to thoroughly distract himself from his earlier revelation. Upon finishing his drink, he left his crew for a moment to find the restroom, which was located down a long hallway the stretched the length of the building.

His mind was now far enough removed from Zoro for him to instead be able to muse over the conversation he had just been having with Brook and Usopp. Not particularly paying attention to where he was going, as soon as he saw a sign with an outline of a male's figure, he reached out for the handle and started to push the door open.

"Are you so desperate you need to try to peek at girls in the toilet now, ero-cook?" Zoro's voice appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. Sanji started in surprise.

The swordsman grinned at him, hands calmly resting on his hips, as though he was patiently awaiting the cook's retort.

Sanji stared at him, his jaw slightly agape, cigarette precariously teetering on the edge of his lip.

Finally, Sanji's mind started churning again, albeit with great effort. He turned his head to the bathroom sign again—still a man's sillhouette—and then back to Zoro, a vein in the cook's forehead noticeably twitching.

"Are you going blind, shitty marimo? This is the men's toilet," he finally replied.

Zoro's irritating grin broadened. He stuck out a thumb in the direction of another restroom door. "Take a closer look. There's a big 'X' drawn across the pictures."

"Yeah, I see that," Sanji replied, looking at the door again. He had assumed it was just somebody's drunken graffiti. "Why the hell would an X on there make a difference?"

"It's on both of them. It's because they're swapped."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sanji muttered, as he furrowed his brow at him. "Are you telling me I'm supposed to use the toilet with the picture of the woman on it?" he asked incredulously.

Zoro nodded affirmatively.

"Tch, you must think I'm as dumb as you, shitty swordsman," he muttered, pushing the door open.

Before he had a chance to step inside, however, the door to the other toilet swung open, and a large, burly man with a shaggy beard and a protruding gut walked out, hiking up his pants as he waddled by.

Dumbfounded, Sanji pulled his cigarette out of his mouth and stared, jaw agape. He also quickly let go of the door to what apparently really _was_ the women's restroom.

The bearded man noticed the stare and nodded at him, chuckling as he walked by. "Wrong one, pal. I almost did it once, too."

"Ah, I was about to go in," Sanji nodded in awe. Once the large man had toddled out of sight, he turned back toward Zoro.

"See? I tried to warn you," Zoro smirked, his expression obnoxiously victorious for someone who had not won a damn thing.

"Where the hell have you been, anyway?" Sanji abruptly changed the topic, suddenly realizing the other man had disappeared ages ago.

"What, were you looking for me, ero-cook?" Zoro asked, raising an eyebrow. Then he scratched his head, nonchalantly breaking eye contract as he replied. "I was on my way back..."

The cook's brow twitched; those familiar lines were a little too easy to read between. "Are you telling me you got lost in this hallway?" But he already knew the answer. Without waiting for a response, he jammed his cigarette back into his mouth and pointed an irritated finger down the hall. "It's _right there_. There's no other turn you could possibly make, marimo."

Then Sanji abruptly walked past him, toward the door with the stupid picture of a woman with a shitty 'X' crossing it out, as if anyone in the damn world was going to know what the hell that meant.

He had just started to relieve himself when he heard the door open behind him. He didn't bother looking—it was bad men's room etiquette, after all—but he could tell who it was. An irritating energy seemed to resonate around him, filling the room.

"Won't even stop smoking while you take a piss, huh?" Zoro commented, his intonation lacking any judgment, but still crawling deep under Sanji's skin.

The cook's brow twitched, and he clamped his jaw down on said cigarette. "Where am I supposed to set it down? It's a damn bathroom."

He zipped up his fly with aggravation, pointedly avoiding Zoro as he headed to the sink to wash his hands.

He couldn't help but notice Zoro was just standing there, however. "Oi, why the hell did you follow me in here?" he asked indignantly. "It's creepy, you just standing there watching me while I take a—"

Sanji abruptly stopped speaking as an unexpected heat suddenly loomed far too close to him, warm breath drifting toward his neck as a firm body pressed against his back.

"I thought I'd see if I could get you to put it down," the swordsman rumbled near his ear.

Although Sanji was a bit mystified as to what Zoro meant—and admittedly, the first thing that came to mind for him to put down seemed perplexing indeed—he was quickly more distracted by the swordman's actions than his words. Strong arms reached around his shoulders, wrapping around the cook securely in a strange sort of backward embrace. Sanji's heart pumped a bit harder; he was pretty sure he hadn't been held quite like this before.

Lips just barely touched his ear, making him flinch away instinctively, even though the sensation was far from unpleasant. The teasing lips slowly made their way down the side of his neck toward his throat, still just grazing his skin enough for him to feel a heated tingle. Then, while he was distracted, he felt the cigarette being plucked out of his mouth.

"Oi, what the hell?" he said, his tone needlessly angry, in an attempt to mask his confusion. It dawned on him that the cigarette must have been what the swordsman was actually referring to him putting down, but he didn't care to think of it much longer. After flicking the burning cigarette into the dirty sink, Zoro roughly grabbed the cook's jaw and yanked his head to the side, forcing him into a wolfish kiss.

_Oh, shit_, was all Sanji could think as the swordsman desperately crushed their lips together, his eager mouth hungrily tearing into him. Pinned against Zoro's body, his back pressed against him, with the sink in front of him, there was no way he could escape; but fortunately for him, the thought of escaping didn't really cross his mind.

A hand creeped down his body until it rested on his thigh, sensually massaging an area just close to enough to _that _place to make him moan and shudder in pleasure. With his body so close to the swordsman's, he could tell they were both in a similar state, even though they had only just begun. He could feel it raging even through all of their layers of clothes, as Zoro pulled his body closer and closer.

Their lips broke apart and Zoro began to nip at his neck, his tongue tracing along Sanji's skin. The blonde man raised a fist to his mouth, biting down on it to try to hold back a cry that was going to be far louder than he wanted it to be. He felt perspiration begin to bead down his forehead, threatening to drip into his eye, and he raised his hand to wipe it off.

And then, looking upward, Sanji became aware he was in front of a mirror. It was a dirty, old mirror that time had turned permanently foggy, but it was enough for him to notice all the embarrassing things he didn't want to see... and things he sure as hell didn't want Zoro to see, either.

Like how his cheeks were flushed scarlet. Or how his face would contort when one of those pleasurable whimpers rolled out of his mouth—no matter how hard he tried, when the swordsman's hand or tongue hit one of those sensitive spots, he couldn't hold it back. Even how he squirmed as Zoro ran his hand up his shirt, which had somehow become unbuttoned and untucked even though he hadn't really noticed until he was staring at his own reflection.

But despite the shame of watching his own discomposure, he realized his position had certain advantages, as well; this way, he could see the reactions the other man assumed were hidden.

He could see the slight wrinkle in Zoro's brow as he grinded his body against Sanji's. He noticed the eager sweat accumulating on his forehead, the tinge of pink on his nose and cheeks. And best of all, he could see the unbridled pleasure on his face when he gasped in pleasure.

He let himself get lost in it for a moment, focusing only on the ferocious lips and the fervent hands exploring his body. But once again, he was abruptly reminded they were in a very public place when he heard roaring pipes echo across the room, presumably because somewhere in a nearby room, someone was using water.

"Oi, marimo, we can't keep doing this here," Sanji barely managed to utter, as Zoro bit down on his neck, harder than before, sending an electrifying tingle through his body.

The swordsman ignored his comment, sliding Sanji's unbuttoned shirt open until one shoulder was exposed, tracing his tongue along the lines of his muscles.

Sanji clamped a hand over his mouth, struggling to hold back a gasp. "Oi, I mean it," he repeated, displeased at himself for the way his voice was a little bit higher in pitch than he wanted it to be. What the hell was he supposed to do, though? The hand still rubbing his thigh was slowly creeping closer to that dangerous zone; he was afraid that at any moment, he would feel the swordsman's hand slide over that aching part of him. And a small part of him was even more afraid that maybe he wouldn't.

Zoro ignored his concern, his mouth continuing its conquest over Sanji's trembling body.

The cook glanced around the room desperately. One sink. Two urinals. Two stalls. There weren't a whole lot of options.

"In there," Sanji uttered quickly, twisting his body in an attempt to break free. "Come on," he breathed, grabbing Zoro's wrist and tugging him in the direction of the nearest stall.

Surprise flicked in Zoro's eye, but he obliged without hesitation, allowing himself to be dragged inside. As Sanji turned the lock, he felt the slightest shred of relief that at least it wasn't one of those flimsy stalls with gaping cracks around the edges of the door; this one had an actual door and walls, made of wood like almost all of the furnishings in the tavern.

And that was the last thought Sanji managed to spare for the bathroom stall. Zoro reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder, yanking the cook toward him domineeringly as he locked him in another one of those lust-fueled kisses that made Sanji feel like he couldn't breathe. Sanji found himself pinned against the wall, the swordsman's hard body seeming to surround him.

His heart pounded out of control. Even in the stall, this still felt terrifyingly _public_. The terror and the thrill messed with his head, jumbling his emotions and his lust until he couldn't even think clearly. But gradually, his desire started to take over and his body responded even as his mind reeled. Zoro's insatiable hands didn't really leave him much choice. And his mouth...

He could not remember the last time he felt like he wanted something so badly, let alone some_one_. Greedily, he wrapped his arms behind Zoro, so that the swordsman was completely unable to pull away from Sanji's zealous kiss.

The temperature of the room seemed to be rapidly rising, until it felt positively burning. The cook unthinkingly pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, until the light fabric dropped to the ground. He would probably be disgusted when he picked it up from the floor of the filthy bathroom later, but it was the last thing on his mind at that moment. Sanji slipped a hand inside of Zoro's clothes, hand rubbing the bare skin of his chest, which seemed to radiate with heat; a warmth that made him feel an inexplicable rush of arousal.

Just then, he realized Zoro's hand was dangerously close to that very sensitive place again—and a moment later, he felt a slight release of pressure as the swordsman managed to pluck open the button of his pants.

"Oi, what are you doing?!" he whispered in shock, pulling away from their breathless kiss.

"What?" Zoro asked, clearly not as concerned about keeping his voice down. He grinned widely as he nonchalantly reached up with his free hand to wipe a drop of sweat from Sanji's brow.

His heart skipped, and for a moment, his body was torn in several different directions. There was something about the affectionate gesture that made him feel moved. Another part of him berated himself for feeling like a giddy schoolgirl over something so seemingly insignificant.

The swordsman wasn't really giving him the opportunity to mull over all of these difficult thoughts and inner conflicts he was having, though. Rather, his prevailing concern quickly became the bare hand touching him _there_, applying pressure and forcing him to clamp a hand over his mouth to hold back his moan.

"D-dammit, not here, you shitty marimo," he barely managed to pant. He clutched Zoro's shoulders tightly to emphasize his seriousness—or maybe just because he could barely take how blindingly good it felt, and had to grasp onto something.

"Then tell me to stop," Zoro grinned again, not drawing away.

Sanji opened his mouth, but he couldn't actually bring himself to say the word. The motion was slow, deliberate, a little bit teasing, and completely overwhelming.

And then the hand suddenly ceased moving, and for a moment, Zoro broke eye contact as his gaze drifted toward the door. "Someone's coming," he said lowly.

At first, he didn't hear it—to be fair, he was more than a little preoccupied—but suddenly a loud, female voice seemed to drift toward him, although he could only make out the angry tone and not the words themselves. As the door to the men's room suddenly burst open, however, they became crystal clear.

"... And like that's not bad enough, of course that asshole had to be drinking the darkest, most disgusting beer!" Nami shouted furiously, her shoes clacking loudly on the tile as she stormed into the bathroom. "And it was full, too—I'm completely drenched!"

"Oi! Wait, Nami!" Usopp called out from the doorway, a tinge of nervous panic in his voice. "This is the men's room—the signs are swapped. You're supposed to use the one with the picture of—"

"I don't care what bathroom it is, I just need a sink," she barked with irritation. The sound of rushing water soon followed.

"Ugh, this place is disgusting. There's even a cigarette butt in this sink."

"Yeah, well it is the men's toilet..." Usopp replied warily, stepping next to Nami.

"And why does it smell so bad in here? I can smell it over the stench of this awful beer!"

"They tend to sort of be like this."

As this conversation unfolded, the two men in the bathroom stall simply stared at each other, unmoving, frozen with Sanji's arms lustfully wrapped around the swordsman and Zoro's tense hand still inside of the cook's trousers.

"Look at this, Usopp, it's even in my hair," Nami complained.

"Oi, Nami," the sniper said quickly. "There's somebody else in here. We should go."

Sanji's heart felt like it came to a skidding halt.

"Fine, that's about all I can do here, anyway," Nami cut him off, abruptly shutting off the water. She sighed exasperatedly. "I can't remember the last time I've been so pissed at somebody. I have half a mind to go out there and crack him over the head a few more times times."

"I think you hit him enough already..."

"I haven't! First he tries to hit on me by bringing me a revolting beer, and then he spills it all over me. And what was with that cocky attitude, like I should've been falling at his feet or something—"

Under normal circumstances, Sanji would have been raging with jealousy over something like this. He probably would have gone after the oaf himself, spilled beer or not, for daring to flirt with his sweet Nami-swan.

But just then, the shitty marimo did a shitty thing that made Sanji instead want to fix all of his murderous rage on Zoro, instead of Nami's admirer.

Zoro chose that moment to remove his hand from the sensitive area it had been resting on within Sanji's pants. Even just the release of the pressure was almost unbearable. With every ounce of willpower he had, he struggled to hold back his voice, but the tiniest, breathiest whimper escaped.

He tried his best to shoot a deadly gaze at Zoro, but even he was certain that he looked more horrified than anything else. The swordsman's face seemed calm and expressionless, but Sanji could feel the muscles in his body tensing as they waited to see if their nakama had heard.

Sanji was fairly certain his heart had completely stopped. Nami had quit speaking mid-sentence, and now, neither she nor Usopp were making a sound. It was a terrible, excruciating pause, and it seemed to drag out forever. Sanji knew the silence could only mean one thing: Nami had heard. He recalled how she and Usopp had been leaning in toward each other earlier while they were in the main room of the tavern, and the image of those astute eyes periodically flitting toward him.

A string of profanities flashed through Sanji's mind. Unconsciously, he gripped Zoro's shoulder more tightly.

The sound of footstep broke the awkward silence, gradually heading away from the direction of Sanji and Zoro's bathroom stall toward the doorway.

"Everyone is about ready to leave, so we're going to go back to the Sunny," Nami announced.

"Yeah, I already know that, Nami..." Usopp said, a bit puzzled.

"I wasn't talking to you," she replied simply.

Sanji buried his face in his hand, cursing inwardly.

But then, a voice he hadn't been expecting suddenly replied to her.

"Ah, I heard you, I'll be out in a couple of minutes," Franky called from the stall next to them.

The stall they had thought was unoccupied.

Mortified and confused, the pair looked at each other as the realization that the cyborg had been in the bathroom with them the entire time slowly sunk in.

Agonizing seconds later, a toilet flushed and the stall door next to them opened, followed by the sound of a squeaky faucet and running water.

Franky... The entire time...

Sanji wasn't even sure what to call the emotion he was feeling. He felt so far beyond panic and embarrassment, it just felt like his insides had turned to stone and now he was numb to whatever the hell else could happen to them.

"Ow, that was super entertaining, guys," Franky called out enthusiastically as he made his way toward the exit. "If you'd rather stay here for awhile and meet us back at the Sunny later, I can let everybody know."

Covering his face with his hands, Sanji sighed. "We'll be there in a minute," he said through clenched teeth. Zoro raised an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugged helplessly. Fuck it. There was nothing else to be done.

His body feeling inordinately heavy, the cook started to pull away as the door to the bathroom closed. But Zoro yanked him back toward him, pressing their mouths together, hungrily pulling Sanji into a stunning kiss that somehow made his mind go even more blank than it already was.

"You said we had a minute," Zoro murmured, not quite pulling their lips apart as he spoke, barely taking a breath before he renewed the greedy kiss.

"Hah?" Sanji yanked away for a second and he squinted at Zoro in confusion, but a rough hand at the base of his neck forced their lips back together immediately.

"You said we'd be there in a minute. So we have a minute."

The cook's eyes widened in surprise, but immediately, his expression softened. "Mm, I guess I did," he murmured into the other man's eager lips. "But only one, shitty marimo."

Oddly enough, when the pair finally reunited with the remainder of the crew at the front of the tavern, the awkwardness that Sanji thought would surely come never actually happened. Nami even tolerated him ruthlessly flirting with her for the entire walk back to the Sunny.


	9. Chapter 9

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip.

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE**

Sanji woke up with a start, covered in sweat, the remnants of a lascivious dream rapidly fading from his consciousness.

Even though the details were dissipating, however, the feeling wasn't. He sat upright, shifting gingerly, his movement affected by the solid ache between his legs.

He clapped a hand to his mouth, trying to figure out what he should do. He could hear his companions in the men's quarters breathing (well, mostly snoring) deeply, clearly asleep, although almost nothing was visible in the darkness of the room.

Silently cursing himself, he wondered what the hell was wrong with him to have a dream like that. Even now that the blanket of grogginess had finally been pulled off of his mind and he could think more reasonably, his brain had failed to pass the message onto his body. He wanted to act on a desperate, lustful impulse, and seek out something to alleviate it. (Well, more accurately, _someone_.)

He had promised himself to hold back that one last restraint, though; because if he let himself escape to that place where he had sworn not to go to alone...

No, he absolutely wouldn't go _there_, he reassured himself. But he had to leave the room to do something, anything else to get his mind off of that burning need. There was no way he was getting back to sleep until he could force his body to relax.

After wandering across the Sunny for some time, his body finally started to let go of the remnants of the dream. He was able to walk a bit more comfortably, at least. Wide awake, he considered heading to the kitchen to get a head start on breakfast. With this much time to prepare, there were many special dishes he could make.

Turning a corner, he thought he caught a hint of the scent of steel and sweat, and he froze. The green-haired man had surprised him before, by unexpectedly popping up in front of him when he thought he was alone; he cautiously proceeded, not wanting to get caught off guard again. The other man was nowhere to be found, though.

But whatever crossed signal in his brain made him think the scent belonged to Zoro, was enough to make his body feel another rush of lust flood through it.

He tried to reason with his body logically; he felt like he was losing.

All the distractions of the world were in the kitchen. Sanji knew he just had to get there, but for some reason, his feet didn't seem to want to listen to him.

Out on the deck, he stopped for a moment to gaze at the infinite sea stretching outward in all directions. The night air carried a chill, and Sanji regretted that he only wore the clothes he had been sleeping in. He should have actually gotten dressed, he realized now.

Despite the chill, the sky was cloudless. As Sanji lit a cigarette and leaned across the rail of the deck, he gazed upward in awe, realizing that even the dimmest star seemed to be burning brightly in the inky black sky.

His head was feeling clearer now. He was no longer overtaken by the impulse pulling him toward the Crow's Nest. He nodded in satisfaction, momentarily pleased with himself.

Yet, as he considered it more coherently, he wondered if it was not as impetuous as he had imagined. He couldn't deny just how much he wanted to go there; and he couldn't say the urge was solely based on lust.

In a way, Sanji hated himself when he thought like this. But right now, the self-loathing was less frustrating and conflicting than it normally felt. Simmering at the surface of all of his jumbled emotions was still one clear and unmistakeable feeling.

He sighed deeply, just as the faint scent of steel began to mingle with the salty night air. This time, it wasn't his imagination. Sanji turned his head slightly, glancing in the direction of Zoro, who stepped next to him and leaned against the rail as well, maintaining a respectable distance between them.

"Can't sleep?" Sanji asked him, after taking a lengthy drag on his cigarette.

"Something like that," Zoro replied vaguely. "You?"

Sanji paused for a moment. "Ah," he nodded finally, glancing in Zoro's direction and smirking. "Something like that."

They stood there in comfortable silence for awhile, simply staring forward at the splendor of the night. Sanji glanced at Zoro for a moment, trying to decipher the look on his face. He wondered if he saw the scene before them as beautiful, as well. Somehow, it seemed strange to think the swordsman had that kind of a side to him, though.

"Oi," Zoro said quietly, breaking the silence.

"Hmm?" Sanji replied, glancing at him again.

"If you want me to leave you alone, tell me now," Zoro said, his tone heavy and solemn.

"Right now? I don't particularly mind the company, even if it is a shitty marimo."

Zoro glanced at him, a spasm of annoyance on his brow. "I mean from now on."

"If that's the case, I've been asking you to leave me alone for years now," Sanji said flippantly.

"That's not what I mean and you know it, dartboard-brow," Zoro barked.

The cook chuckled, blowing out a breath of smoke thoughtfully. "Ah, I know." His voice softened slightly. "But you know, even if it's that, I don't particularly mind."

Zoro nodded, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Feels like it's getting colder out here," Sanji commented as a gusty wind blew past them. He hugged his arms around him.

"Ah, I could warm you up," Zoro mentioned, taking the tiniest step closer to Sanji, so that their elbows faintly brushed together.

Sanji's eyebrow twitched. "That line sounds really disgusting coming from your shitty mouth."

Instead of retorting, Zoro just laughed, and Sanji couldn't help but smile widely as he stole a glance in his direction. This was a side to the swordsman that was rare, but he had caught a glimmer of it a few times before; that unbridled laughter, the relaxed expression on his face.

That they were able to stand here and talk like this, to bullshit like normal, actually gave him an inexplicable feeling of relief. Considering how many times he had wanted to stop having any contact with the swordsman, being able to be with him normally felt... well, it felt surprisingly free of the heavy anxiety he had been experiencing, at any rate.

His thoughts drifted back to his dream, which he could not quite remember the details of, but the remains of the emotion still fluttered in his chest. Pensively, he flicked his cigarette butt into the water below.

"Oi, Zoro," Sanji called out quietly.

Zoro raised an eyebrow, studying him carefully. "What?" he asked, a bit cautiously.

"Are you..." The cook's heart pounded thunderously. "Are you going back to the Crow's Nest?"

Zoro scratched his head, a puzzled look on his face, as though he had been expecting a very different question. He nodded affirmatively. "Ah, it is still the middle of the night," he replied, his tone slightly condescending, like he thought it was a stupid question.

Sanji glared at him. "I just meant, is that where you're going, or are you going to pass out in the middle of the floor like you usually do."

"Hah... I guess so."

"As in the floor?"

"No, the Crow's Nest!" The swordsman snapped. "Dumbass cook," he added after a moment for good measure. "Why are you asking?"

Sanji knitted his brow, frowning deeply. "Well, I was going to ask if I could go, but never mind," he retorted irritatedly, crossing his arms and turning his back slightly to Zoro. He had barely said anything, but he couldn't force away the wave of embarrassment he felt. He tried to conceal what he was certain felt like a blush across his cheeks.

Zoro's hand—which somehow, even in the chilled night air, felt so warm—shot forward and grabbed his shoulder.

"You should," he said adamantly, his tone suddenly deadly serious, fingers slightly tightening as he spoke.

"No, I won't," Sanji said dismissively, trying to step away and wrench his body out of the swordsman's grasp.

But admittedly, he wasn't trying very hard. When Zoro yanked him backward, Sanji didn't struggle too much, and he found himself pressed against the swordsman.

Eye level with one another, he studied Zoro's expression, which was surprisingly serious as it looked back at him. Then Zoro reached around the back of Sanji's head, thrusting his head forward as he pulled him into a kiss that the cook was pretty sure fell somewhere between frustration and longing. But then his mind went blank, and Sanji could do nothing but simply respond, the warm tongue more than welcome in his mouth.

"You should," Zoro repeated as their lips parted from each other. "Come with me, cook."

Sanji leaned forward, connecting their lips one more time, lightly brushing his tongue against the inside of Zoro's lips. The swordsman let out the tiniest low moan, tightening his grip on Sanji's shoulders. Eagerly, he deepened the kiss, a ferocious tongue gaining entry in his mouth.

"Only for a little while," Sanji finally replied, when the swordsman paused long enough to allow Sanji to speak. Perhaps a bit too briskly, they made their way to the Crow's Nest.

* * *

The trapdoor clicked closed. Wordlessly, Zoro grabbed a barbell laden with enormous weights and placed it on top. With several hundred pounds holding it down, it was less likely anyone would try to enter.

As Zoro rose to his feet and took a deliberate step toward him, Sanji knew they were already past the point of turning back, even if they had not really started yet.

He was strangely accepting of it, though. In a way, they had been gradually working their way up to this for years now.

When he was finally standing in front of him, Zoro stared at him a long moment, his single eye looking the cook up and down. A difficult expression crossed his face, and Sanji opened his mouth to ask what the problem was.

Then a rough hand brushed the side of his cheek, and Sanji swallowed the words back. Leaning forward, Zoro connected their lips, first softly, and then much more urgently.

The swordsman's hands were slow and deliberate as they set to work. Under normal circumstances, there would have been numerous ties and buttons and belt-buckles to deal with, but right now, Sanji was wearing nothing but the clothes he had slept it. Zoro helped him pull the shirt off over his head, intermittently pausing to plant tantalizing kisses on the cook's neck and chest.

Meanwhile, Sanji set to work removing Zoro's clothes as well. He untied the sash keeping the long robe tied closed, letting it slip to the floor. By the time Sanji had slipped his hands beneath the fabric, he realized the swordsman's hands were now focused on his trousers.

But it didn't really matter; this wasn't a race. Rather, it was something Sanji wanted to savor. Like a decadent dish, he wanted to relish in the flavor and the scent and the way it made him feel, until there was nothing left but the sensations that made his body seem to ache down to its very core.

Focused on nothing but the feeling of fervent lips and skilled hands working their way all over his own body, the cook took the opportunity to explore Zoro's body thoroughly as well.

"Ero-cook," Zoro murmured in his ear, as he nipped at his earlobe sharply, a rough hand sliding up the inside of his thigh as he felt his pants slip to the floor. Sanji couldn't help but moan in response to simultaneous actions, feeling his cheeks burning hotly, surely earning him that detestable nickname.

And then, there were no more clothes to remove. The two men had seen each other naked many times—they had frequently taken baths at the same time before, after all—but this was the first time Sanji had ever really been able to study his body to his heart's content. And even more, to touch and explore all the little nicks and scars, the sinewy muscles, the exposed skin.

Zoro had a ravenous look in his eye that made him almost feel like prey about to be devoured... and this particular predator was very, very greedy. But it made him want to fight for his life, to desperately suck the other man into a kiss just as deadly as his own.

At some point, Sanji realized he was giving the greedy swordsman too much control. The blonde man roughly grabbed his arms and pushed him down, forcing him to the floor and toppling him onto his back. Straddling him, he bent downward and started sucking at his exposed chest, his tongue tracing the curvature of his bulging muscles, the jagged line of scar tissue, the surprisingly hard nipples—anything he could.

Stealing a glance up at Zoro's expression, he was pleased—and irrationally aroused—by the incredibly unusual face he was making. Even when in pain, he couldn't remember Zoro making such an intense expression. He had never seen his cheeks and nose so red, never heard him cry out so loudly.

Shit. He was so turned on, he could barely stand the unbearable ache of longing, the way every touch seemed to send a shock-wave through his body. And he could feel Zoro's desire, as well, as he straddled him; those burning places could not help but make contact.

With each caress, each brush of the tongue, each grind against each other, the inevitable came closer.

For some reason, Zoro's cheesy words flickered through his mind. Maybe it was the startling fondness of the touch, but he couldn't help but muse over those strange words, that had seemed so much like a confession. Those inconceivably penetrating words that he never would have imagined the dense swordsman to string together.

The swordsman surely wasn't going to offer any uncharacteristically fond words tonight, though. In fact, Zoro seemed incapable of saying anything beyond guttaral moans and whimpers, ranging from barely audible to deafeningly loud, depending on just what Sanji did, and where he did it. If Zoro said anything, it was undoubtedly with his body—and what he was saying was a message Sanji could understand loud and clear.

Still, those silly, cheesy words flitted through his mind, giving him a strange solace that he didn't want to think about too hard.

Even as their bodies finally came together in a crashing crescendo of pleasure, the unsettled feeling that had been wreaking havoc in Sanji's heart never once reared its ugly head.

There are times in a man's life when time becomes irrelevant, and that night they spent together became one of them for Sanji. If he had to estimate the time they spent in that limbo of coital bliss, for all he knew, they could've been locked in the Crow's Nest together for years.

The only thing that told Sanji they hadn't was how dark that infinitely long night was. It was only when exhaustion overtook them that they finally ceased their lovemaking.

Tired limbs entangled, the swordsman and the cook finally allowed themselves a moment of rest. Sanji thought he heard the swordsman murmur something near his ear, but he couldn't quite make out the syllables. A moment later, he was asleep, and the words were lost forever.

* * *

Even though breakfast was being served inordinately late, Sanji could not quite move at his usual brisk, fluid pace to make up for the lost time.

He had clearly underestimated just how sore last night's activities were going to make him. It was taking all of his effort to walk normally, so dashing around the kitchen as he multitasked was not proving possible.

Sanji wondered if he looked as out of sorts as he felt. He had slept far later than he meant to, every inch of his body having been thoroughly worked over by Zoro. When he finally woke up, he had to scramble to get to the men's quarters for a change of clothes, to the bath to scrub off the evidence of the activities of the night before, and to the kitchen to prepare a very quick breakfast.

No one was complaining, but he couldn't help but feel like he looked disheveled. He was certain that his clothes weren't as perfectly adjusted as he would have liked; his hair was still drying, instead of already being styled; and he had even knicked himself shaving.

The thing he was most concerned about, however, was his movement. He hadn't expected to be feeling the effects from last night this prominently.

His normal habits of agilely whizzing back and forth across the large kitchen were severely limited. Even as he affectionately dashed back and forth behind Nami and Robin, showering them with excess compliments as he poured their coffee, the discomfort was excruciating.

He wondered if his body just might stop moving in protest, if he kept trying to do things like that. A bit more cautiously, he set the rest of the food on the table, still maintaining his characteristic flourish—it was just a little _less_ flourish than normal.

When he himself finally took a seat at the table, he bit down on his lip to hold back a pained wince. Hesitantly leaning back in the chair, he took a sip of his coffee, glancing down the length of the table.

That shitty swordsman seemed to still be sleeping. He thought that he would at least come down after a few minutes, but apparently, he had opted to go back to sleep.

His mind drifted as he pensively smoked a cigarette while he finished his coffee, idly chiming into the conversation with the rest of his crew mates, here and there.

Lost in his own thoughts, Sanji didn't notice that there were several pairs of eyes that kept casting furtive glances in his direction. He also didn't notice it was probably because the corner of his mouth kept involuntarily tugging into a smile, as he thought about the events of that morning.

* * *

_As his eyes tentatively flickered open, the first thing he noticed was the pair of strong arms firmly clamped around his body._

_It made it difficult for him to move even an inch, but there was something oddly comfortable about those familiar, solid arms holding him like that._

_His body felt completely exhausted; the swordsman had barely given him a break all night long. Or maybe it was the other way around, he wasn't even sure. All he knew was that his body sort of pleasantly ached._

_He wanted to go back to sleep, to stay in those unyielding arms a bit longer, but the sleepy veil was gradually being lifted from his mind. When it finally disappeared, he realized with a start that it was already very bright outside._

_"Shit," he cursed, struggling to pull himself away from Zoro's vice-like grip._

_"The hell are you doing," Zoro murmured reflexively, retaliating by tightening his grip._

_Cursing how stupidly strong the shitty marimo was, he struggled to peel the muscular arms off of him—even as, with a pang, he realized he didn't want to._

_"Let go, marimo. I have to go make breakfast."_

_"Tch, you can sleep in a little."_

_"I already slept in," Sanji replied, forcefully twisting his body in another attempt to free himself. _

_Suddenly, the grip was released and Zoro pressed a hand on his back, shoving him forward. "Then quit slacking off, ero-cook. It's your damn job to make food."_

_Sanji's eyebrow twitched. "That's what I was trying to say. And at least I have a damn purpose. What the hell is your job on the ship?" _

_He stared upward thoughtfully for a moment. "I pick up the anchor."_

_"How is that a job?!" Sanji said sharply, pulling himself to his feet. He had considered aiming a jestful kick at Zoro, but as he rose to his feet, there was a sharp throb that made his body almost go slack in surprise. _

_"The hell," he muttered under his breath. Embarrassed, he looked up at Zoro, expecting the swordsman to be smirking at him. However, he had already laid back down and looked suspiciously like he had instantly fallen asleep._

_"Shitty marimo," Sanji muttered, a bit more amused than he would ever care to admit._

* * *

The restlessness within the cook was finally subsiding. That compiling anxiety and stress had been devastatingly toiling on him, but he was starting to feel a semblance of _normalcy_ again. A few things had changed, sure—like how the cook spent more and more nights in the Crow's Nest—but deep within himself, he was feeling a little more balanced at least.

It was a bit strange how, when they were together, he and the green-haired man still fought just as much as they had before. In fact, sometimes the arguments got so heated, Sanji could barely remember that he had shared an intimate moment with the other man just a short while earlier—or thought about how he would be having such a moment again soon.

With the absence of anymore untimely interruptions, or nights of agony and panic, Sanji could almost describe it as a kind of blissful feeling—but of course he wouldn't. The idea of that kind of happiness stemming from anything relating to the shitty swordsman was still implausible. But, it was something like that.

Maybe it was a bit unreasonble, but in his rip-roaring life as a pirate, he sort of hoped the thing with Zoro could remain simple and pastoral.

Sometimes he caught Zoro with an uncharacteristically content look on his face, and he wondered if he hoped for that, too. Not that he would ever ask such a cheesy question to the shitty marimo.

* * *

A hinge had been loose on one of the cabinets in the kitchen, and it had finally gotten bad enough to motivate Sanji to find a screwdriver to fix it. Or better yet, find a sniper or a shipwright to do it, since they could undoubtedly do it better.

As he headed down the staircase leading to the bowels of the ship, where he was likely to find either Franky or Usopp in their respective workshops, he placed a cigarette between his lips and fished for his lighter. Just before he ignited it, however, he heard his name echo faintly across the empty space.

Normally he would have disregarded it and just kept descending downward. They were on a ship together, so it was only natural that they spoke about each other a lot. But the thing was, he was pretty sure he had heard his name next to the swordsman's, as well. He felt a cold sweat start to form on the back of his neck.

He let the lighter's flame extinguish and listened for a moment, curiosity-and perhaps fear-getting the better of him. After a moment, he definitely heard his name again, so he soundlessly took a few more steps down, until he could make out more of the conversation.

Taking a seat on the stairs, he replaced the lighter in his pocket, his unlit cigarette still hanging out of the edge of his mouth.

"—Yeah, and they were going at it real hard in the bathroom at that bar. It was super intense in there until you came in," Franky said.

"I can't believe you just sat in there the whole time," Usopp told him, his tone incredulous and maybe a little bit appalled.

Meanwhile, Sanji was clamping down on the cigarette, biting into the filter, suddenly wishing very desperately that it was actually lit. In fact, one measly cigarette hardly seemed like enough; he felt like he needed to suck down two or three at once. And maybe run far, far away, never to return, while he was at it.

Franky laughed, unfazed. "Well, why not? Besides, they started at it so fast, I didn't think about doing anything else."

"So when Nami and I walked in-"

"Yeah, your timing was the _worst_," Franky emphasized. "That's probably why one of them couldn't stay quiet."

The anxiety and the dread that he had thought was gradually fading away returned tenfold and it felt like it had punched him right in the gut. He leaned forward, arms wrapped around his abdomen, wondering if he might vomit.

He knew he had been overheard—there was no way to deny that. But for some reason, hearing it from the shipwright's mouth made the wound seem fresh. Even worse, Franky had also confirmed that he, Usopp and Nami had undoubtedly been able to identify _what_ it was; they knew it was him unable to hold back his aroused whimper.

_Shit, even Nami-san_, he thought achingly. Wiping his forehead with the cuff of his sleeve, Sanji realized it was dripping with sweat.

Usopp made a strained-sounding noise. "That wasn't the first time, though. I walked in on them once, and it was awful."

"Hah, you did?!" Franky exclaimed. "When was that?"

"A couple weeks ago, maybe," Usopp said grimly. "In the Crow's Nest."

Franky made an enthusiastic noise that sounded something like an _ow! _"So you saw them right while they were-"

"_No_," Usopp said adamantly before the cyborg could finish the sentence. "No, they were already done with... whatever they were doing," he muttered.

_Shit, but that time, we didn't even... we hadn't even_... Sanji thoughts careened out of control as he leaned forward, clutching his head between his hands, unsure if he wanted to flee or stay and listen awhile longer.

"They were just getting dressed," Usopp went on. "Ah, no, wait. Sanji was getting dressed, but Zoro was just sort of lying there under a blanket. He just kept looking back and forth between me and Sanji."

"No way!" Franky bellowed, laughing heartily.

"It was pretty awkward," Usopp winced. Meanwhile, Franky just continued cracking up, his booming laugh echoing up the stairwell.

"Now you're just being impolite, Franky," Robin said calmly, and Franky's blaring laughter abruptly ceased.

As her voice joined in, Sanji was pretty sure he was having a cardiac arrest.

"I didn't mean it in a bad way, it just surprised me," Franky quickly explained himself. "I mean, we all know the two of them have been sleeping up there pretty much every night, but this super confirms it."

Sanji couldn't breathe.

"I-I shouldn't have mentioned it, though," Usopp stammered apologetically, as if he had been scolded too.

"Hmm?" Robin said nonchalantly. "I wasn't directing my comment at you."

"Ah, you're right, but... I just, I don't know, I felt like maybe I should said sorry, too."

"And why is that?" Robin asked serenely.

A long pause followed.

"Perhaps because you said it was 'awful'?" Robin said, filling in the quiet gap.

"Y-yeah," Usopp said, voice trembling slightly. "I didn't mean it was terrible it had happened, though, just... I didn't really expect to see that, y'know?"

Robin sighed lightly. "Really, you two, think about how you'd feel if someone was speaking of either of you like that."

Another lull of silence followed, and Sanji realized he couldn't take it anymore. If he heard another word, he just might scream. Trying his best to remain silent, he scrambled to his feet, gradually increasing his pace and lighting his cigarette with a trembling hand as he half-ran back to the deck.

_This can't be happening_, he thought frantically.

Feeling ill and uneasy and like he no longer wanted to face anyone in general, he retreated to the back of the ship, where there was a place on the deck with low visibility. He wanted to stay there and chainsmoke until he could clear his head. And maybe throw up; the need was feeling more and more inevitable, as his stomach churned violently.

Collapsing on the ground, he inhaled deeply, sucking down cigarette after cigarette, until he had flicked at least a half a dozen butts into the ocean below and his head had stopped swimming quite so much.

He realized he felt exhausted. Leaning back against the wall, he soon started to doze off, a burning cigarette haphazardly hanging out of his lips.

"You're going to catch on fire like that, dumbass cook," a jeering voice called out to him, suddenly wrenching him awake.

"Hah?" Sanji burst out, instantly wide awake and immediately irritated. The cigarette, now burned down to barely a stub, tumbled out of his mouth and landed on his lap. "Shit!" he shouted, scrambling to snatch it before it burned a hole in his pants.

"That's what I was saying," Zoro smirked, taking a seat next to him, stretching his arms upward and resting his hands behind his head as he leaned backward.

The cook agitatedly hurled the cigarette into the ocean, suddenly wanting nothing more to do with it. Well, at least with that particular cigarette. He reached into his pocket and pulled a new one out of his pack.

Instead of lighting it, he simply stared at it, brow slightly furrowed.

"So?" Zoro asked, glancing at him.

Sanji narrowed his eyes and glanced at the swordsman. "What?"

He paused, closing his eyes. "So, as in what happened," he finally clarified.

Now it was the cook's turn to pause, as he contemplated whether or not he should say a word to the other man. But finally, he caved in, and in not-so-many words, told him about what he had just overheard from their nakama.

"Hnn, is that all?" was all Zoro had to say.

"What do you mean, 'is that all,' like it's no big deal?" Sanji asked with frustration.

Zoro shook his head negatively. "No, I mean, I'm surprised that was all of it."

The cook broke into a cold sweat. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked nervously.

"I mean, that's nothing compared to what I overheard a little while ago..."


	10. Chapter 10

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip. There are numerous spoilers including events that occurred during the Thriller Bark arc and Sanji's whereabouts during the two years that the crew was separated.

* * *

**CHAPTER TEN**

Sanji panted heavily as he discarded his cigarette butt onto the ground. It rolled forward, not stopping until it hit the toe of an enemy's shoe.

He gloomily wondered if it was futile to light another, seeing as it was impossible to taste or smell it through the choking stench of the gunpowder in the air. This shitty fortress they were stuck in was a deadly maze of gunfire and explosions.

Besides, it felt like he had been facing a nonstop onslaught of attacks for hours now. He had to concentrate. Focus. They had to get out of there—so he had to disregard the foreboding sense of doom in the pit of his stomach. And even more, ignore the sharp pain in his side.

Still, as he continued to fight, he ached for the the rush of nicotine in his lungs. Carefully, he shifted the weight of the small parcel that was loosely tied to his shoulders; a bag holding an unconscious Chopper, who had been forced to overuse his abilities earlier. After using monster point, he had collapsed and hadn't woken since.

In between furious kicks, the cook managed to snatch a slightly bent cigarette from his pocket, jam it in his mouth and light it. He sucked down the first puff greedily as he aimed his heavy shoe at the face of one of his attackers. The heavy-set man flew backward, toppling down half a dozen of his comrades behind him.

He, Chopper and Zoro had gotten separated from the rest of the crew some time ago. He could feel the swordsman's familiar, ominous presence looming behind him. Even though they weren't touching, raw energy felt like it was flowing off of his back.

They were going to reunite back at the Sunny. That was all that was important. Not all of the uncertainty and uneasiness fluttering in his stomach. For now, Sanji had to worry about how to get the three of them out of there, because even when they made it out of the enormous chamber they were currently trapped in, Zoro sure as hell wasn't going to be able to lead them through the maze of rooms and corridors beyond.

Still, no matter how many times he tried, Sanji could not completely ignore the dreadful feeling in the pit of his stomach, slowly eating away at him. He didn't dare voice it aloud, though; it was not as though anything would change if he did. Instead, every word he said came out cocky, confident, and assured of victory. He wouldn't let the swordsman know about the trepidation he felt; he couldn't let him know the reason for his apprehension.

For the most part, their attackers were pathetically weak. But rather than their pitiable fighting prowess, it was the sheer _number_ of them that was proving daunting. It was unfathomable. Bodies were beginning to pile all along the large room where they were fighting, but still, new attackers came at them in hordes. The word _massacre_ flitted across his mind, and it made him feel a little nauseous, but he had to move past it. They had to press on, and survive.

"We're getting nowhere like this. We need to do something to break out of here," Sanji called over his shoulder, still standing back-to-back with Zoro. He heard blades reverberate through the air, followed by the sound of collapsing bodies.

"Yeah, I think that's pretty obvious, dumbass cook," Zoro replied scornfully. "Did you notice they're coming in the only door, though?"

Sanji leapt in the air to attack three men making a concurrent charge toward him. When he landed, he twisted his body toward the swordsman as he perplexedly took a drag from his cigarette. "I know _that_, shitty swordsman. That's why we're going to make another one."

"Ah, I get it," Zoro replied. Although he couldn't see his expression, just from the way the other man pronounced the words, he could sense the grin emanating from his face. "Sounds good. Where?"

"To your left. I think that one should open into a hallway."

"Alright," Zoro replied, leaping into action.

Sanji was already ready for it. He grabbed Zoro's arm as the idiot marimo promptly jumped toward his right. "Wrong way, dumbass," he growled, forcibly dragging him in the right direction.

With frenzied flashes of steel and swirls of black, almost too fast for the naked eye to discern, the duo mowed through the enemy legion as though they were cardboard cut-outs, swiftly carving out a path to the far end of the room.

When they reached the thick, cobble-stone wall, there was no need for words to coordinate. The two men struck in unison, creating a far bigger gap than was necessary for them to get through.

"Hold on, I want to close it so they can't follow us," Sanji said, once they had escaped into the hallway. Leaping upward and striking the ceiling with his shoe, the ceiling started to crumble until it collapsed, the ensuing avalanche effectively blocking the exit.

He said an inward _thank you _to no one in particular that he had somehow been able to hold back the wince of pain that was desperately trying to make its way out of his throat. He clenched his jaw, desperately trying to keep himself focused on moving forward. There was no time to fret; they had a long way to go.

"That should hold them back for a minute," Zoro replied smugly, as Sanji fell in line beside him and they started to run.

A minute was a good guess. As soon as they turned a corner, the two pirates found themselves once again facing an impossibly large group of the lowlifes who kept attacking them. He didn't know where the hell they were all coming from, but his feelings of anxiousness were gradually increasing. And perhaps even worse than the anxiety was the ever-increasing _pain_.

The weight of the unconscious reindeer in the satchel on his shoulders, the small bundle that had seemed so light at first, now felt like it was growing exponentially.

Sanji took a deep puff from his cigarette. He was too careless; he had needlessly taken too many blows that he should have been able to easily avoid. Pissed off and angry at himself for his sloppiness, and steadily losing blood, it was no wonder the situation was bothering him more than it probably should have.

The place they were in—the large, ancient-looking fortress that had been built for god-knows-what purpose and now housed a bunch of mindless rogues that had no apparent agenda other than trying to kill them—looked like it only had one entrance, from what he had seen from the outside. And other than the front entrance, which faced the sea, the rest of its rocky walls were surrounded by nothing but dangerous, sharp crags and rocks. It would be challenging to escape that way.

But then, the prospect of scaling dangerous cliffs seemed far less daunting than their current predicament.

They were cornered in a small room now, so the amount of enemies that could approach had lessened, but they still were faced with the same dilemma: they had to force their way out.

"Oi, marimo," Sanji muttered lowly, wiping a nervous sweat from his brow. He backed up into Zoro until he felt the broad, familiar back just barely graze his.

"You finally come up with something?" Zoro replied gruffly.

"Don't act like it's my fault we're stuck here. You could've come up with an idea, too," Sanji jeered, an intentional dig of his elbow into the swordsman's back coinciding with a frustrated kick into the chest of an attacker.

"Tch, my idea is to just defeat them all."

Sanji's brow twitched. Their conversation had to be paused for a moment, as they both simultaneously unleashed an attack.

"It's going to be too hard to get back to the entrance. I think we're going to have to make our own exit," Sanji said finally, when he had a moment to place both of his feet on the ground again.

Zoro turned to look over his shoulder, grinning, and Sanji noticed a cut on his forehead. With the back of his hand, the swordsman quickly wiped the trickle of blood away that was threatening to spill into his good eye.

"So it's the same plan as your last one," Zoro replied flatly.

Sanji started to retort, but suddenly, the swordsman surged ahead, breaking through the horde in front of him.

Baffled, Sanji sprinted after him, spinning wildly to kick away the enemies threatening to rush toward him to close the newly-created gap.

"Where the hell are you—"

His sentence was interrupted by the crumbling of stone and mortar. Dumbfounded, Sanji watched Zoro attack the wall near the back of the corridor, causing it to collapse and reveal some sort of storage room.

Brow twitching wildly, Sanji kicked him on the back of the head. "What the hell are you doing, you shitty swordsman?"

"I was breaking down the wall so we could get outside," Zoro replied. "Must not have cut far enough..." He crouched down, preparing to strike the wall beyond the random bric-a-brac that was now covered in crumbled stone.

"That's not the way to the outside. Who said we were anywhere near the outer wall?" Sanji shouted angrily, once again readjusting the bag on his shoulders containing Chopper.

Zoro's body relaxed and he stood up straight, looking at Sanji expressionlessly as he wiped away more blood dripping from the cut on his forehead. "You said we should break it down."

"I didn't say it was _that_ wall we should break down, idiot." Furiously, Sanji stomped out his cigarette butt, barely able to contain his rage.

But suddenly, he realized that even their pursuers were momentarily stunned by Zoro's incomprehensible behavior. After exchanging a knowing glance, Zoro and Sanji came to the same understanding simultaneously, and took off.

Running behind Zoro, Sanji was able to confirm an earlier suspicion that had added to his overall unsettled feeling. There was an irregularity in Zoro's movement that could only mean one thing: the idiot swordsman had also let himself get injured.

He hadn't cried out in pain and he certainly would not mention it, but there was a certain roughness in his swordsmanship, a slight peculiarity, that Sanji could just barely detect. He wondered which one of them may have done it; very few of their attackers had been very strong, but it seemed unlikely that he would get hurt by someone who wasn't powerful.

But then, he had been hit, too; unconsciously, he hand flitted to the sharp ache beneath his ribs. He knew the blood wasn't visible through the material of his black jacket, but he could feel the thick wetness on his hand. A flicker of surprise crossed his face; it was far more than he had expected. Once again, he felt his already overwhelming sense of unease increase, until the weight of it felt like it just might crush the breath out of his chest.

Then suddenly, Sanji caught the faintest whiff of cool, salty air beyond the choking smell of gunpowder, and it was like a surge of hope had been injected into his veins.

"Oi, we've got to be getting close," he remarked, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Pleased, he reached in his pocket for another cigarette. They reached a room at the end of the hallway—a room with the smallest slit of a window, but a window, nonetheless. And behind it, Sanji could just barely make out the ominously dark night sky.

Sanji slammed a heavy wooden door shut behind them and tipped over a giant cabinet near it, barricading the door. This time, he couldn't help but grunt a little bit. He just had to ignore the discomfort beneath his ribs a little longer, he reminded himself. Then they would be out of there.

Swords drawn, Zoro faced the outer wall. Hesitantly, he glanced back at Sanji. "This one, right?" he asked, through teeth clenching a katana.

"There's a window right there, dumbass!" Sanji shouted, pointing upward at it angrily. "Yes, this one!"

A flicker of an emotion Sanji couldn't place resonated in the swordsman's eye, just before he quickly turned and sliced into the heavy stone wall. But he immediately turned back around, not even bothering to pause long enough to confirm the chunks of masonry had crumbled away.

Instead, the green-haired man's agitated stare was fixed on Sanji, his brow twitching wildly. Specifically, the look was fixated on his chest.

"Oi, what the _hell_?" Zoro said emphatically, his voice startlingly thick with anguish.

Surprised, Sanji looked downward, wondering how the hell the other man had noticed his injury. But immediately, he realized there was no way the other man could have missed it. The blood from the wound below his ribs had begun dripping onto the floor, and a tiny puddle was already forming at his feet.

"Shit," he murmured, pensively taking a drag from his cigarette as he stared downward at the falling droplets of crimson. Unexpectedly, the restlessness that had been plaguing him suddenly seemed far off in the distance, and was replaced by a sort of numbness. He felt absolutely nothing at this new development. They were almost out, after all; there was no point in worrying anymore. They just had to hurry.

"Why didn't you tell me, bastard?" Zoro asked peevishly.

"The same reason you didn't tell me," Sanji replied calmly, furrowing his brow slightly. "We can talk about it later, but we need to get the hell out of here right now."

A brief flicker of uncertainty crossed Zoro's face. He opened his mouth as though he was about to protest, but after a moment, he clamped his jaw shut and stormed toward the opening.

Suddenly, something blindingly bright and unrecognizable surged toward them, and Sanji barely had time to jump out of the way to avoid it. Frantically, his eyes scanned the now smoke-filled room until he saw Zoro, a short distance away, who looked surprised but unscathed.

"What the hell was what?" Sanji said lowly, glancing toward the doorway—or more accurately, where the doorway had been before the attack. Now there was a gaping maw in its place, smoldering embers clinging to chunks of broken and splintered wood that had once been the door now littering the floor. And then the incessant horde began filling the room.

Sanji cursed under his breath, quickly preparing himself to go on the offense, all too aware he was no longer in the best condition to fight. And sure enough, once the battle began, one, two, three more hits landed—nothing fatal, barely anything to slow him down, but the cumulation was beginning to have an effect.

The swordsman, who was faring significantly better, despite the fact that he had to keep wiping blood off of his brow, finally jumped in front of Sanji, putting a buffer between him and the enemies.

"We're never going to get away at this rate. Get out of here while I hold them off—I'll shake them off later," Zoro declared. Even standing slightly behind him, Sanji could not miss the determined expression on his face.

"Like hell," Sanji spat, flicking his cigarette into the crowd of attackers, faintly satisfied as someone let out a yelp of surprise.

"Tch, listen to me, stupid dartboard-brow," Zoro demanded, glaring at him furiously. "I'm telling you to go because I know I'm going to make it out of here."

"That sounds like you're saying I won't," Sanji replied sharply.

"I went along with your plan to find an exit, dart-board brow. Now go along with mine. It'll get us all out of here alive." He paused frequently as he shielded all of the incoming attacks, fending off all of the enemies attacking both him and Sanji before the cook had a chance to retaliate himself.

Zoro glanced back at him, smiling arrogantly. "See? This is nothing for me," he replied.

There was another flash of white light. Zoro leapt toward Sanji, pushing him out of the way, and the two men plus Chopper tumbled to the side as whatever the blast was whizzed past them. This time it was smaller, but felt like it burned much hotter.

Sanji was seeing stars from the pain of being violently shoved backward on the floor despite his wound, but he managed to pull himself upright. "What the hell is that," he muttered, scanning the crowd as he pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the fallen bag. Chopper's head lolled to the side slightly as he reaffixed it around his shoulders. The reindeer let out a small whimper, but did not awaken.

Zoro was already on his feet. "The big one near the back," he said, gaze focused forward, his expression dark. Sanji followed his line of sight, but it wasn't hard to figure out who he meant; the man near the back of the horde, shoving his way past his allies like they were blades of grass, was enormous.

"Listen to me, ero-cook," Zoro said lowly, as Sanji stepped up next to him. "Get out of here, and I'll be right behind you."

"Like hell I will!" Sanji repeated; this time, however, there was a slight tremor in his voice. "The best thing we can do is stick together. What if something happens and you can't get away—" he started.

"Don't doubt me!" Zoro roared through the teeth clenched around his sword, emphasizing his anger with an angry strike of his blades against the two men charging him. They cried out piteously in protest. "I'll make it out of here and meet up with you at the ship. I said I may not do it the way I'm supposed to, but I sure as hell intend to do it right beside you."

"Hah? The hell are you talking about?" Sanji scowled deeply. "Do _what_ the way you're supposed to?"

Zoro cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn't avert his gaze from his attackers, nor did his swords falter even once as he continued speaking. "Is your memory that bad, dumbass cook? I'm talking about what I said to you that... that time."

That... time?

"You're the only one I can say I've felt this way about," he said lowly.

It was Sanji's turn to turn a shade redder, as he realized what conversation Zoro was referring to. But he couldn't help but be astonished that Zoro had said it so unwaveringly, when those words must have been so difficult to say.

But he couldn't tell the swordsman that. "Oi, you're going to say all that here?!" was all he managed to cry out.

"I don't give a shit about what all of these weakling goons think. Just like I don't give a shit about all of the girls that turn you into a worm-legged nosebleed, as long as... as long as..."

Sanji buried his face in his hand, silently begging Zoro not to say it aloud again. Not here, not in this situation.

A flood of embarrassing words entered his head, coupled with the sensation of eager lips and a fiery touch. This wasn't the time to think about these things.

The cheesy, embarrassing words the swordsman had uttered.

_I don't know what it means to be in love with somebody._

Those words he spoke that night, when they were alone in the kitchen, after they had not been speaking for some time. That night was the last time Sanji had ever tried to seriously run away from the other man... even after all the embarrassing shit that happened.

_But you don't seem like you'll mind very much if I don't do it the way I'm supposed to._

The intensity and the sincerity in those words that he had mulled over countless times. Even now, they were so embarrassing and corny to think about, yet they seemed burned within his brain.

_And I don't care if you're in love with a thousand women, just as long as you're only in love with one man._

"I don't give a shit about any of that, as long we can keeping going like this," Zoro finally finished his difficult sentence, breathing heavily as he continued facing the onslaught. "Do you get it, dumbass cook?"

He turned toward him for the briefest moment, giving him a heartrending look of concern mixed with anguish that Sanji never would have thought he was capable of making.

There was a twinge of pain in his chest. Sanji felt wholly defeated as he stared back, his lip trembling faintly, a strained expression on his face.

"Alright," the cook sighed heavily. Normally he would have argued with Zoro until he had his way, or more likely, until they both realized neither of them would reach a satisfactory resolution... but he didn't want to see Zoro make that kind of face. "Dammit, I'll go, shitty marimo."

Dejected, Sanji stepped to the edge of the floor, where the gaping hole in the wall opened up into the dangerous crags below. He clutched at the bag holding Chopper, ensuring that it was securely in place.

"Oi," he heard Zoro utter. Without thinking, he turned around. He was surprised to see the other man staring at him with yet another complex expression painted over his face; a strange mixture of determination and sadness, of dread and expectation.

"I don't know if you can really remember everything I said, but, well..." the swordsman's jaw tightened as he obviously struggled with whatever he was about to say.

_I do remember_, Sanji thought, but he could not speak. His chest felt tight, and his body felt frozen in place. He was utterly unable to move or respond; merely able to wait until Zoro found the words he was desperately searching for.

After a moment, he pulled his katana out of his mouth and clenched his eye shut.

His booming voice resonated crystal clear, even over the din of the fray.

"_...I meant everything I said that night."_

And then, Zoro's attention was immediately back on the fight; he couldn't turn away for much longer without risk to himself. Sanji's jaw trembled slightly at he stared at his broad back for a moment.

_I know, you idiot_, he thought, clenching his fists, nails digging into his flesh. But he couldn't say those words aloud either, even after the fearless swordsman had so openly laid out his own emotions in front of him.

Inwardly cursing, he jumped out of the opening in the wall, landing roughly on a flat edge among the sharp rocks below. He glanced back at Zoro, who from below appeared silhouetted in front of the men he was fighting.

He raised a quivering fist, unsure if he was shaking from the uncertainty of leaving Zoro behind or the nearly blinding pain in his side, and shouted back at Zoro the only words he was courageous enough to say. "You better make it out of there, because I sure as hell can't take on your objective of being a meat-head swordsman if you don't."

He immediately berated himself; what a dumb thing to say.

But if the swordsman thought it was dumb, he didn't show it. "I know that," Zoro called back smugly. "Somebody as weak as you couldn't get half as strong as me, even if you devoted your whole life to it. But don't worry, cook-I'll make it back so I don't need to give up on that ambition... and besides, I'm kind of interested in seeing that All Blue place, anyway."

For a moment, the swelling feeling in his chest almost rivaled the crippling sense of dread that had been washing over him. But then, another dangerous flash of white light burst out of the gaping hole, and Sanji was forced to retreat.

"That All Blue place, huh," Sanji muttered under his breath, shaking his head from side to side. He thought he had said something strange enough, but somehow, the swordsman has managed to effortlessly up the ante. Honestly, he had no idea where Zoro came up with these ridiculous, saccharine lines he had been spouting; it was unexpected, to say the least.

Carefully jumping over the sharp rocks surrounding him, trying to make his way toward where he knew the water had to be, he couldn't help but fixate on the deafeningly loud explosions raging behind him, and how they still hadn't stopped...

* * *

When Sanji's eyelids fluttered open, he was instantly confused by his surroundings.

It was pitch-black outside, save for half a dozen or so stars that were visible through the hazy cloudcover in the sky. Even if he hadn't been facing the sky, though, he would have known he was outside from the crisp night air and the penetrating cold that seeped in through his clothes from the rocks underneath his back.

He could feel dull pressure just below his ribs, and make out the silhouette of a small, antlered figure leaning over him.

"Chopper...?" he murmured hoarsely.

"Ah, good, you're awake!" Chopper said brightly, sparkling eyes looking down at him in surprise.

Sanji started to pull himself upright, but he felt the reindeer hold him down. "Hold on just a minute, I'm almost done. This was a pretty bad wound you got on your side," he told him. "I gave you a mild painkiller to take the edge off, but I'll have something stronger for you when we get back to the Sunny."

A mild painkiller... That's why the sharpness was gone. Now, he only feel a small ache, fuzzy and distant.

Yeah, the three of them needed to get back to the ship. He, Chopper and Zoro...

Suddenly he snapped fully awake as his mind was flooded with the image of hordes of men overwhelming them, and the silhouette of Zoro's broad back as Sanji made his retreat. "Oi, where's the shitty marimo?" he asked, alarmed.

"Eh, Zoro? I don't know, when I woke up, you were alone. You were slumped against a rock and there wasn't anyone else around."

His mind reeled. It made sense; he vaguely remembered sitting down to catch his breath, so he must have lost consciousness once he paused to rest.

"Dammit, I have no idea how long it's been now," Sanji gritted his teeth, slamming a fist against the ground.

"What?" Chopper looked at him with concern, confusion apparent in his large, innocent eyes.

"That idiot swordsman stayed back so we could get away..."

"Oh," the reindeer gasped, concern sweeping over his face. But after a moment, he relaxed slightly. "But it's so hard to see anything around here, he could have walked right past us and not seen anything. He could be back on the Sunny already."

"Even you couldn't have seen him? Or smelled him?"

"Ah... ah, I guess I would have," Chopper admitted sheepishly. "But it could've been before I woke up."

Sanji rubbed his face tiredly, then reached down toward his jacket pocket, groping for a cigarette and lighter as the doctor finished patching him up.

"Okay, all done," Chopper announced, backing away from Sanji. "You can sit up now if you'd like. Be careful, though, or the wound might reopen."

"Ah, thanks," Sanji nodded in gratitude, raising a lighter to his cigarette before he cautiously pulled himself upright.

He was trying his best to appear outwardly calm on the outside, but internally, he was seized by panic. He was pretty sure Zoro had made it out of the fortress, but he knew he had been injured as well, even if he hadn't been able to tell exactly how bad it was.

And what's more, if Zoro hadn't caught up to him and Chopper by now, there was no way the shitty swordsman was going to find them or the Sunny by himself.

"Oi, Chopper, can you go back to the Sunny and tell everyone I've gone to find Zoro?"

"What are you talking about?!" Chopper exclaimed. "We need to get back to the Sunny together so I can finish treating you. I only stopped the bleeding for now."

"I'll be back soon, don't worry. I don't plan on getting in any fights."

Chopper insistently tried to convince him to head back to the ship, but Sanji would not be persuaded.

"Then I'll come with you," Chopper said firmly.

Sanji shook his head, taking a long drag of his cigarette. "Like I said, I won't be long. You need to get back to the ship to tell the others we're okay. And what if someone else got injured?" He turned his back to Chopper, clutching his hands in front of him. "Why, if Nami-swan or Robin-chwan got hurt and you weren't there to help them, I just couldn't bear it," he wailed, his body writhing back and forth as he spoke.

Reluctantly, the reindeer agreed to head back himself. He did insist the cook take a fistful of random bandages, as well as some antiseptic and a couple of painkillers along with him—just in case Zoro was in a similar condition. And really, they both knew he would be; the swordsman had a knack for getting pretty banged up.

With that, they went their separate ways. Chopper headed back to the Thousand Sunny, where the remainder of the crew was hopefully awaiting their return.

And Sanji, with a look of determination on his face, began the trek back in the direction of the fortress. He somberly puffed on his cigarette as his eyes desperately flitted back and forth along the landscape, searching for any trace of the shitty marimo.


	11. Chapter 11

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

Spoiler Warning: Takes place after the time skip. There are numerous spoilers including events that occurred during the Thriller Bark arc and Sanji's whereabouts during the two years that the crew was separated.

A/N: Next chapter will be the final chapter!

* * *

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Finding Zoro didn't take nearly as long as the cook had expected.

Sanji took an irritated drag from his cigarette, staring at the unconscious man as a curled brow twitched in quiet irritation. "Stupid marimo," he muttered under his breath disapprovingly.

Quite frankly, Sanji was really sick of seeing the swordsman's blood all over the ground. Or rocks, or sand, or dripping into the water below. The scenery changed, but the scene sure as hell didn't. It had happened so many times; how could the idiot marimo still persist in being so damned careless?

He had found him, sprawled out and unconscious—or maybe dead asleep, it wouldn't be the first time—hidden away in a cave-like mouth in the craggy rocks. To be honest, if it hadn't been for the dripping blood, though, he may not have noticed him.

It was actually kind of enraging, how much blood the swordsman seemed to have in his body. The stupid things the marimo had managed to survive.

"You're the one who should keep needing shitty blood transfusions," he spat, as he flicked his cigarette to the ground.

Gloomily, he approached him, hands already reaching into his pockets for the medical supplies Chopper had given to him. In hindsight, he should have probably gotten more.

Unsurprisingly, after making his escape, Zoro had gone in the opposite direction of where the Sunny had been docked. If he had gone in the right direction, he would have easily reached the crew, whether it was Sanji and Chopper, or everyone who was aboard the ship itself.

Sanji sat down next to the unconscious swordsman, near his shoulder, on a spot where the rock had not been covered in his blood. Not that it mattered, he supposed; his clothes were already fairly saturated in his own blood.

He carefully inspected Zoro's body, feeling faintly uneasy at peeling off the other man's clothes—not that it was the first time he had, but this was a completely different context than it had been all those other times.

The worst injuries were a gash in his right thigh and the front of his chest, just far enough to the side that his shirt had covered it. He suspected the latter had been the wound he had acquired while Sanji was still with him; the crimson fabric of his clothes would have easily concealed the blood. Besides, the injury in his leg was much easier to spot. He had also gotten another bad cut by his temple; coagulating blood completely engulfed his good eye.

As adeptly as he could muster—"I'm a cook, not a shitty doctor," he muttered bitterly as he worked—he cleaned the wounds and bandaged the larger gashes to slow the bleeding. Once that was done, he tried to take a soft cloth to wipe the blood off of his eye. The cook even momentarily halted his chain smoking to ensure no stray ashes would get in the way; not that the shitty marimo would appreciate such a gesture, he was certain.

The entire time, he continued muttering insults and curses at him, but Zoro didn't stir. He was breathing, shallowly and erratically, but that was about the only sign he was alright.

Finally done, he leaned back and stared out at the shimmering night sky above him. The clouds had cleared, and now it seemed much brighter around him. He pulled out a new cigarette and puffed on it slowly, absent-mindedly letting his free hand rest on Zoro's slightly feverish head.

He tried his best to maintain a calm exterior, but his chest could not help but flutter with the slightest tinge of worry. Sanji wanted to rush to get him back, but he knew he had to gather his energy. His tired body had taken a hell of a beating.

Once his cigarette had been reduced to nothing but the butt and ashes scattered across the ground, Sanji rose to his feet, readying himself. Then he hefted the unconscious swordsman into the air and slung him over his shoulders.

"Can't believe I have to carry this shitty marimo back to the ship," he muttered, no real irritation apparent in his voice.

In fact, the closeness was somewhat comforting; as he pressed Zoro's body tightly against him, he could feel his warmth, feel he was okay.

And even more, after he had been walking awhile, he could feel the other man's muscles twitch and contort as he started to regain consciousness.

"You awake, shitty swordsman?" Sanji asked, stopping a moment.

"The hell are you carrying me for, ero-cook?" Zoro responded, groggy and irritated.

Sanji's brow twitched. "Because first you decided to head in the wrong direction to get back to the ship, and then you passed out, marimo."

Zoro grunted in reply. "Are you going to put me down?"

"Can you stand?"

"Of course I can stand," Zoro said, the agitation in his voice growing.

He set him down, and Zoro took a few tentative steps forward. He was definitely affected by the deep laceration in his thigh, but he seemed okay staying upright.

Wordlessly, Sanji stepped next to him—his right side, specifically, so that the swordsman wouldn't have to fully turn his head just to see him. Then the cook wrapped his arm around him, giving him a meager amount of support.

"Oi, I don't need your help—"

"Maybe I'm doing it because I want to," Sanji replied moodily, his cheeks feeling slightly warm.

Zoro raised a skeptical eyebrow at him, the gesture nearly lost behind the large bandage that was affixed to the cut on his forehead. "Are you telling me you wanna put your arm around me?"

"You're not the only one who gets to say corny things," Sanji retorted.

Although he may have imagined it, he thought for a moment, Zoro's cheeks turned a little bit pinker. Clearly, the swordsman must have been recalling the words he said to Sanji right before they parted. "Ah, I suppose, that stuff I said..." Zoro trailed off, averting his gaze to the ground. "Well, I take it all back, then."

"Oi, I didn't say to do that," Sanji protested quickly, glancing at him in alarm.

When he looked at the other man's face, a faint swell of elation swept over him. It was one of those rare moments where Zoro was smiling; a large, genuine smile, displaying white teeth, the joy behind it taking up his entire face. The swordsman let out a loud laugh—again, a rare splendor—and raised his arm to put it above Sanji's shoulders.

"Alright, if it's that upsetting for you, I won't take it back then."

"Tch, why do you make it seem so—" Sanji started, but he was never able to finish his sentence. The swordsman's free hand had reached around to grab Sanji's jaw, fingers brushing the edges of his goatee as he forced the blonde man's face toward his and kissed him.

Sanji became faintly aware that he must have gotten hit in his cheek at some point, because it throbbed slightly as Zoro pressed his mouth against his own, but he ignored it, finding the hungry mouth far more urgent.

_Shit. _Why did this man have to cause his emotions to spin out of control so wildly, to the point that he had felt in flux until they had been reunited again?

He didn't wish the feelings away anymore, but he still found it annoying. And downright incomprehensible.

Even now, aching and exhausted, the want almost trumped all of his fatigue as their lips connected, their arms still interlocked.

With a tinge of regret, their lips finally separated. Sanji opened his eyes and shook his head at Zoro, his face contorting into a scowl. "There'll be plenty of time for that back on the Sunny," he said, pushing him forward slightly with the arm still wrapped around the swordsman's side.

"That so?" Zoro smirked.

"Tch, shut your mouth and walk, marimo," Sanji replied with a glare.

Slow and steadily, they made their way back, careful to make a wide arc around the fortress, cautiously making their way through the jagged rocks and uneven ground.

When they were only a few minutes away from the ship, they were greeted by Luffy and Chopper.

"Oi, Zoro, Sanji!" Luffy cried out loudly, rushing toward them.

Chopper followed not far behind him, his brow knitted in worry as his searching eyes looked the two men up and down.

"See, I told you they were fine," Luffy grinned.

Chopper looked up at them with concern. "I'm sorry!" he cried out. "I wanted to turn right back around and find you, but I had to patch up everyone else as well..."

"I can see that," Zoro said, glancing at Luffy, whose chest and arms were covered in bandages—but really, that was hardly an unfamiliar sight at this point. It was more rare to see Luffy not covered in bandages after a battle—or the stupid marimo, for that matter. He cast a sidelong glance at Zoro.

But despite his numerous injuries, their captain seemed to be feeling better than ever, as evidenced from the rambunctious way he drilled them on what they had encountered and told them of all of the fun perils he and the rest of the crew had run into.

"I'll use heavy point and carry Zoro the rest of the way," Chopper offered, once Luffy let him get a word in.

"Tch, it's fine, we only have a little ways to go," Sanji replied automatically.

"You shouldn't be carrying anyone with your wound," the reindeer urged.

"I'm alright," Sanji insisted. "Besides, I'm only supporting him a little."

"But I'm in better shape to do it."

"We'll be to the ship in a couple of minutes, it doesn't matter." With a dull pang, Sanji realized he didn't really like the idea of relinquishing the swordsman just yet, as ridiculous as the notion was.

"Then I'll just take him for a couple of—"

"Ah, don't worry, Chopper," Luffy chimed in loudly, cutting the small reindeer off as he suddenly jumped beside him.

"But they're both hurt pretty badly," the young doctor insisted.

Luffy laughed as he patted the reindeer on his shoulder. "Yeah, but Zoro and Sanji just want to be close to each other right now, so you shouldn't break them apart."

It felt like the air pressure suddenly dropped.

Sanji felt it difficult to draw in a breath. He couldn't hear anything except the sound of Luffy's merry laugh. The cook started to speak, but all that came out was a gasp. He saw Chopper's jaw fall open in surprise. Then he turned to glance at Zoro, and saw that the green-haired man's jaw was clenched tightly, with a faint telltale crimson tinge on his cheeks.

"Ehh, Luffy! You can't say—" Chopper started. But then he blushed so furiously, he couldn't finish whatever he was about to say, as though it was just too embarrassing for him to utter.

Luffy scratched his head. "I can't what? I just thought it was kind of obvious, when you look at them."

Zoro's muscles tensed; although the movement was barely distinguishable, Sanji couldn't help but feel the strong muscles flex beneath his arm. He reflexively tightened his grip a bit as well, giving him a slight squeeze.

Yet for some reason, Sanji couldn't quite share in Zoro's alarm. Of all the things that had happened—all of the stupid occurrences that had flustered him beyond control, the dangerous moments that they had been through, the mortifying times that crew members had seen them together or gotten wind of how he was with the swordsman...

The fact that even the seemingly oblivious Luffy had not only figured it out, but had taken the information in, so plainly and without even the faintest shred of displeasure or disapproval, as though it was the most natural thing in the world... It was so astonishing that Sanji simply couldn't help himself.

He threw his head back and laughed mirthfully, plucking the cigarette from his mouth with his free hand so it wouldn't fall to the ground.

Zoro and Chopper stared at him, utterly dumbfounded, jaws slightly agape.

"That's right, Luffy... That's why I'm not letting you guys help," Sanji chuckled, grinning widely.

Luffy laughed loudly, blithely slapping Sanji on the back. "Yeah, I thought so!"

"Oi, you..." Zoro muttered, glancing at Sanji.

The cook's grin widened as he took a long puff on his cigarette. "Hah, what?"

Zoro stared at him incredulously. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly in what might have been a hint of a smile, but he averted his gaze, concentrating on the ground in front of him as the group began to walk forward again.

The night had slowly began to creep into the small hours of the morning. By the time they boarded the ship and Chopper whisked Zoro away into the sick bay, Sanji realized he should probably prepare breakfast. His body felt exhausted, and he had a feeling that once he actually laid down to rest, he would not be waking up in time to feed the undoubtedly starving crew.

As he was nearly done preparing the lavish breakfast, the ache in his side began to increase in sharpness; whatever Chopper had given him to dull the pain was wearing off, no doubt.

He set out the food in a manner so that the crew could easily take what they wanted whenever they were ready.

Just then, he heard someone enter the dining hall. He glanced at the entrance, and caught a glimpse of luxurious red hair.

"Good morning, Nami-swaaaan," he called eagerly. "Please have a seat, I'll bring you your breakfast right away. And what would you like with it? Coffee? Tea? Perhaps something else?"

"Hmm, I'll have tea," Nami smiled, rubbing her eyes tiredly.

He gave her a concerned look. "Surely you haven't had enough sleep yet, Nami-swan. You should go back to bed and leave everything to the rest of us."

She shook her head. "I don't feel like sleeping anymore right now," she replied. "But what about you, Sanji-kun? Didn't you just get back?"

Sanji placed his hands on his cheeks, grinning widely. "Nami-swan's worried about me!" he cried out happily. "I'll get some rest soon, don't worry. I just wanted to get the kitchen in order—and I wanted to make sure Nami-san and Robin-chan had a delicious breakfast waiting for them!"

Usopp and Franky noisily entered the dining hall, engrossed in conversation and not yet turning to greet the rest of them.

"Ah, perfect timing," Nami mentioned, smiling coyly as she glanced in the noisy duo's direction. Then she turned her gaze back to Sanji. "Why don't you let us take care of cleaning up, Sanji-kun? That way, you can rest up."

"Absolutely not, Nami-swan. I refuse to let your delicate hands touch dishwater," Sanji insisted.

Nami smiled brightly. "Don't worry, I promise I won't so much as lay a hand on a dirty dish. I'll merely be _directing_." She glanced at Usopp and Franky again, smiling devilishly.

Both men abruptly stopped speaking to turn toward Nami, a bead of sweat on their foreheads.

"Hah? I suddenly have this bad feeling..." Franky said nervously.

"I think that's because we just got forced to do something."

Nami smiled at them menacingly before turning her attention back to Sanji.

"See? They'll take care of it. And besides, that way you can take something to eat to Chopper... and Zoro."

The knowing way she pronounced Zoro's name made Sanji pause in hesitation.

More specifically, it made him feel like his heart had leapt into his throat. His incredibly dry throat. With difficulty, he tried to swallow the distressing feeling back down.

He realized he still had not quite faced this awful feeling properly. She knew what had been going on; even if it was only a piece of it she had heard (and how much it pained him, remembering how she had been witness to it), he was sure the clever woman had figured out much more.

She knew—and what's more, Sanji had clearly already made some kind of decision. Even if he had not always had the clearest head when he acted, he had, unarguably, made a choice.

He studied her a moment... The beautiful and incredible Nami-swan. The woman who had captivated him more than any other. Really, if there was one woman he loved more than the rest, Nami would surely be it. No other woman had ever torn him in so many directions before, had ever dazzled him so. This alluring, enchanting woman, who at one point, he surely would have chased to the ends of the earth, if she had only given him the slightest hint.

_At one point. _Sanji sighed heavily; he couldn't help but realize his mind kept flickering to past tense as he considered it. This probably really did mean he would never have a chance with her again, and that this was a door he had let forcibly close on his future possibilities.

Still, he couldn't help but love her. In fact, it was utterly impossible for him to not be in love with her... He took a long, pensive drag from his cigarette. Suddenly, he realized he had been standing still for an inordinately long time, staring at her, while Nami's large, brown eyes stared up at him questioningly.

"Is there something you want to say, Sanji-kun?" she asking, tilting her head slightly.

"Ah, no, sorry," he said, smiling apologetically. Then, the pitch of his voice became slightly higher, as he trilled, "I was just admiring your beauty, Nami-swaaaan."

"If that's it, then get out of here!" she exclaimed, reaching out and giving his chest a gentle shove. "Don't just stand there, when there's someone waiting for you."

"Yes, Nami-swan," he agreed eagerly, springing into action.

It was a complicated feeling rushing through him as he plated the breakfasts for Chopper and Zoro. He had a general sense of malaise from the twists and turns of the evening, mixed in with his exhaustion, and the fluttery, remorseful pang he was experiencing in his chest as he considered Nami. But it was nothing compared to the profound feeling of relief, and the shameful, eager expectation, of being able to check on Zoro.

As he left the dining hall, he took one last glance toward the table, where Nami was lecturing Franky and Usopp.

Yes, he loved Nami-san more than any other woman, without a doubt. He stared at her for one longing moment before he turned to leave. A feeling of self-loathing washed over him as he considered that there just may be another person he loved even more.

As he exited the dining hall, the allegorical sound of the door slamming shut behind him was enough to make him start in surprise.

* * *

Sanji had all but forgotten that Chopper had told him he needed more medical treatment than what he had received on the island, before he left to find Zoro. The second he entered the sick bay, however, the young doctor whisked him into a second bed—one of the infirmary's many foldaway-beds that had apparently been set up just for him—and started to examine him.

Zoro, who was laying in the bed next to him, wordlessly ate his breakfast. However, the cook did notice that he kept casting sidelong glances at the wound Chopper was attending to on his abdomen.

The cook found himself drifting to sleep, even while the doctor worked on him. It really had been an exhausting night.

"I'm going to sleep for a few hours," Chopper suddenly exclaimed.

The dozing man's eyelids abruptly shot open. Tiredly, he pulled himself to a sitting position, realizing that his treatment was over.

Chopper was standing at the door. "You should... uh... just stay here and rest!" he called out. Oddly enough, there was a small bead of sweat dripping down the reindeer's temple.

"I think I'll be fine in the men's quarters—" Sanji started, furrowing his brow as he observed Chopper's inexplicable nervousness.

The doctor's eyes flitted back and forth between the swordsman and the cook. An out-of-place blush crept up his face, as he closed his eyes and nervously shouted, "You two should stay here together and get better!"

Then he bolted out of the door as the cook stared after him, his mouth slightly agape at the young doctor's odd behavior.

"What was that about..." he muttered.

"You really can't figure it out, dumbass cook?" Zoro said, pulling himself upright.

Sanji glanced at him. "The hell do you mean, marimo?"

The swordman shifted his feet out of the bed and onto the floor. "He's leaving us alone."

"Tch, why would he go to the trouble of doing that," Sanji muttered, although he felt a flush of embarassment at the thought. After all, Chopper was the first one to see them together, in this very room...

"Who knows," Zoro replied, his voice suddenly right next to Sanji's ear, "but it works out, because I really wanted to do this." Without giving the cook time to retort or even realize what was happening, he pressed his mouth against Sanji's.

For a moment, Sanji kept his eyes open in surprise. The kiss was unexpected, but what was more, there was a sort of startling gentleness to it that made him want to gasp in shock.

The swordsman's eye opened for a moment, as he deepened the kiss slightly, and Sanji realized he had not been responding properly. Finally closing his eyes, Sanji reached forward and wrapped his hand around the back of Zoro's head, fingers playfully traversing through the strands of his hair, as he gently applied pressure to ensure the swordsman wouldn't pull away too quickly.

But eventually, he had to. Sanji felt a small twinge of regret as their lips parted, marking the end of the affectionately impassioned kiss.

A rough hand suddenly grasped his, tugging him forward. "Come over here."

"Hah?"

"To this bed."

"I'm already in a bed, shitty swordsman."

"Yeah, but that bed—" Zoro started. Then his suddenly closed his mouth, his jaw noticeably clenched.

Sanji stared at him, one eyebrow raised. "What about it?"

The swordsman averted his gaze. "It's too flimsy to hold both of us, so come to this one," he muttered, his cheeks flushing. He gave Sanji another violent tug, yanking him out of the foldaway bed and onto his feet.

The cook sighed heavily, but he was too damn tired to argue about it right now. Besides, he did prefer the idea of sharing the bed with him. Not to mention, Zoro's embarrassed face was kind of endearing—not that he'd tell _him_ that.

They climbed into the narrow bed together, and even though he was hurting and there was not a whole lot of room to move around, he couldn't really think of a more satisfactory place to sleep. It took almost no time at all for his eyelids to start to flutter shut. He was a little bit surprised by how securely the other man's arms gripped him, but it wasn't entirely disagreeable.

In fact, it was actually pretty comfortable.


	12. Chapter 12

Title: One to a Thousand

Rating: M for language, adult themes and sexual content

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece

_A/N: The final chapter! Thanks to everyone who took the time to read all of this. I really appreciate all of your favs and reviews. Till the next story!~_

* * *

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

As time passes, everything settles into something else; sometimes the slow change can make it all feel insignificant and mundane, but when Sanji sat back to really think about it, it had been a hell of a change between them.

Before he realized it was happening, Sanji had stopped sleeping in the men's quarters entirely. Gradually, he spent more and more nights up in the Crow's Nest until it just so happened that all of his clothes and personal effects were up there, and weeks and weeks had gone by without him needing to get anything from the men's quarters at all.

And then, there was this situation, which seemed to be popping up with an irritating frequency.

"Oi, you're in my way, marimo," Sanji growled at Zoro, nudging the swordsman's leg with the toe of his shoe, a stack of plates in his arms.

Zoro, who had been napping on the floor of the kitchen, leaning again the pantries nearest to the sink, opened his eye and sleepily glanced up at him. "Just step over me," he muttered.

"Like hell I'm going to keep doing that!" he said, his brow twitching indignantly. "What a pain. If you want to sleep, do it somewhere else."

Zoro yawned, groggily shifting his body over slightly. "Is that better?" he asked.

"Did you even move at all?" Sanji barked. "If you're so damn tired, go to sleep!"

"I'm waiting for you," Zoro replied drowsily, his eyelid beginning to flutter closed again. "Why's it taking you so damn long..."

Sanji clenched his teeth. "If you think I'm taking too damn long, then give me some help, shitty marimo," he growled. "It would be a lot quicker cleaning up with two people."

Zoro shook his head. "No way. Last time I did something in the kitchen, you complained the whole time."

"That's because you kept breaking things."

Zoro opened his eye, looking up at Sanji unhappily. "Oi, get it right, cook. I broke _one_ thing."

"It was a pot."

"Whatever it was."

"A _metal _pot," Sanji emphasized. "How the hell do you break something like that?"

The swordsman shrugged nonchalantly. "It was fragile."

"It was not!" he barked. "You should have been able to throw it on the ground without denting it."

"Tch, no reason to be so upset about it," Zoro rumbled, resting his hands behind his head.

"You also weren't even trying to put things away in the right place."

"Well, how am I supposed to know where anything goes, anyway."

"You piled everything in the pantry. Who the hell puts dishes away in a pantry?"

Zoro shrugged again. "That's why I'm not helping."

Suddenly, Sanji realized that he had already put everything away while they argued, and had probably managed to step over or around the swordsman at least a dozen times in the process. "Tch, well now I'm almost done, so just wait a few more minutes," he grumbled, picking up a rag and wiping down the counters.

Wordlessly, Zoro rose to his feet. Sanji paid little attention to him as he adeptly cleaned the kitchen counters, polishing them until they sparkled with cleanliness.

_Swish, swish._

Sanji started in surprise at the sound. Turning around, he saw Zoro sweeping the far in the kitchen.

"Oi, what are you doing, marimo?"

"What the hell's it look like, dartboard-brow," Zoro muttered.

"Well, I see _what_ you're doing, but—"

Zoro turned toward him, his single eye piercingly fixed upon him. "You sweep after you wipe everything down, and then you're done, right?"

Sanji nodded in surprise; he still could not quite get over how stupidly observant the marimo could be sometimes.

"Alright. Then finish your damn part of it then," Zoro grumbled, turning his attention back to the broom.

Too stunned to retort, Sanji quickly returned to his task, his mind struggling to interpret Zoro's bewildering behavior. But after mulling it over a few minutes, all he could chalk it up to was the idiot swordsman somehow managing to surprise him again.

Satisfied, he tossed the rag aside and washed his hands. He figured he would do one quick check of the pantry to pull the items he would want to use for tomorrow's breakfast, and then he'd be ready to go to the Crow's Nest. However, as he reached for an item on the pantry shelf, he was interrupted by the startling sensation of heated lips against the side of his neck.

This, too, was another another instance of Zoro surprising him.

"O-oi, I thought you were tired..." Sanji stammered. The swordsman's burning lips pressed against the sensitive skin near his jawline, followed by teeth gently nipping him, caused a hot flush to course through his body.

"Ah, but I'm wide awake now, ero-cook," Zoro rumbled softly, his lips brushing Sanji's earlobe, hot breath ruffling through his hair.

Sanji tried to push Zoro off of him. "I'm in the middle of something," he protested. Strong arms grasped him more firmly in retaliation, however, and he was unable to pull himself free.

The sensation of lips along the back of his neck, followed by a tongue flicking forward and tracing each vertebrae as Zoro pushed down his collar, made Sanji gasp in surprise. Fervent hands slipped in front of him, unbuttoning his jacket, then reaching up for his tie.

"Why do you wear clothes that are so damn hard to take off?" Zoro muttered in his ear; a complaint Sanji had heard more than a few times before. He struggled to pull the loose knot of Sanji's tie downward. "In fact, this part is the worst."

"The tie is the easiest thing to take off, shitty marimo. You should hate the buttons more."

"I do hate the buttons," Zoro whispered, his mouth once again right up on his ear, lips brushing his earlobe as he spoke. Sanji tried to suppress a shudder. "But I hate the tie more."

"Tch, if you hate taking it off so much, just leave it on," Sanji replied defiantly.

Zoro started. Blinking in surprise, Sanji glanced back to look at him. The swordsman stared at the ground, his expression gravely serious as he furrowed his brow. "Maybe that wouldn't be so bad," he murmured lowly, raising a hand to his lips as he mulled over the idea.

"I-idiot," Sanji stammered, abruptly twisting his body around until they faced each other. Then, before the shitty swordsman could reply, he ardently pressed their lips together. He didn't close his eyes as they kissed, and for some reason, he felt extremely satisfied by the wide-eyed expression on the other man's face. It was several seconds before Zoro finally closed his eye and started to focus all of his concentration on the tantalizing kiss.

It seemed like no matter how much time had passed, and no matter how many times the two of them repeated these same actions, Sanji never tired of that delectable mouth. Hungrily, he deepened the kiss, fervently pulling the other man nearer.

If it went like this for much longer, there was only one way it could go; yet even if Sanji still planned on heading up to the Crow's Nest before they continued, he almost couldn't bear the thought of ripping himself away from the other man, even if it was only for a short time.

If anything, even the clothes in between them seemed to create too much distance. He wanted to feel skin and body heat; he needed to feel every tremor, every shudder, every twitch of pleasure. Desperately, he pulled him closer, to feel all the subtle nuances of the swordsman's body reacting to his own.

Fingers dug sharply into his back as Zoro also gripped him tightly, somehow even more impassioned as he crushed their mouths together forcefully, his tongue dominating Sanji's own.

Finally, Sanji somehow managed to rip himself away, gasping for air. It was unspeakably difficult, though; his body was crying out in agony for more, aching for the swordsman.

"We should go now before it's too la—"

"It already is," Zoro interrupted breathlessly, cutting Sanji off before he could finish the word. His mouth briefly reconnected with Sanji's in another ravenous kiss. "I can't wait any longer."

Sanji paused for a moment, momentarily entranced by the look in Zoro's eye. He had seen it before, but lately, he felt like it was growing more clear and intense. It was a strange hybrid of emotions, and though the desire was more apparent, it commingled with something much more honest and sincere; likely something far more difficult to say than the simple utterance of not being able to wait for his body any longer. It was both startling and yet exhilarating to see that look become increasingly obvious and plain. Sanji felt his pulse quicken.

That look triggered a much different emotion in Sanji than the blinding lust he was currently experiencing, but even so, it seemed only natural to respond by giving into his desire—no, their mutual desire. The cook started to untie the crimson sash around Zoro's waist so he could pull off the rest of his clothes.

He felt greedy hands start to finish their earlier task of unbuttoning his shirt, but still, the green-haired man continued to look at him, his brow slightly knitted with some kind of difficult-to-handle emotion, and Sanji couldn't quite bring himself to tear his gaze away from him in intrigue; this was something new.

Zoro opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but the words didn't quite come out, and his eyebrows furrowed a bit more deeply; the troubled look was disconcerting to Sanji.

"Hnn, what is it?" the cook asked finally, comfortingly brushing the swordsman's cheek with the side of his hand.

Zoro's face flushed slightly. Again, he looked like he might speak, but he simply averted his gaze instead.

Sanji felt his heart pound a little bit harder; whatever words were so hard for Zoro, he could perhaps venture to guess, but he did not want to push it. Instead, he leaned forward and brushed his lips against Zoro's left ear, letting his lips gently run down his skin, the swordsman's earrings jingling slightly, until he passed his earlobe and began to run his lips down his neck.

Zoro trembled in anticipation. Encouraged, Sanji licked at his neck, and the other man let out a pleasurable murmur in response.

Putting his mouth on his ear once again, Sanji whispered as softly as he could. "If something's too hard to say, why don't you show me instead." He nipped at his earlobe. "If you can, that is."

He wasn't sure why he said it himself. Maybe it was because he knew the swordsman would respond to a challenge, no matter what the situation. It could have been because he didn't like to see Zoro make that kind of troubled face. Whatever the reason, the cook had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Passionate, mouthwatering kisses, so eager and yet tender at the same time. Skilled hands that seemed like they were only capable of touching the places that made Sanji uninhibitedly cry out in pleasure. The other man's body, once again burning with that seductive heat that seemed to light a fire in Sanji's core.

It was a rush of relief when they were finally close together, skin to skin, no distance in between them.

The cook felt a slight pang of guilt that they were about to do it on the grain sacks, but they were in waterproof packaging; besides, he didn't have time to feel that bad about it for long, as Zoro kept his mind and body wholly occupied.

How did the swordsman know where to touch, when to touch it, how to make him moan like he was completely incapable of holding back his voice; he wondered these things again and again. Futilely, Sanji clutched a hand to his mouth, as though he could somehow physically block the sound.

Zoro shook his head and pulled his hand away, leaning in closer toward him. "Don't—I want to hear it."

The swordsman was so shameless sometimes.

But then, maybe he was too.

When they were finally through, Zoro toppled on top of Sanji and they both panted breathlessly, indiscriminately clutching at each other. As he thought about Zoro's intense gaze throughout the end of it—that stoic emotion he managed to somehow contain while still showing it so openly to him—he felt his cheeks burn.

Indeed, Zoro seldom spoke about the complex feelings between the two of them, even if he managed to display it so brazenly at moments like these.

Absent-mindedly running his fingers through Zoro's hair, Sanji's mind drifted to those ridiculous words the other man had said, during those few brave movements when he didn't hold back his words.

The cook realized that just maybe, he had never said enough in return to Zoro. But he was feeling a bit courageous now, with the euphoric post-coital calm flowing over him and the feeling of Zoro's body pressed against him closely enough that he could feel his heartbeat.

"About that thing you said..."

"Hnn, what thing? I haven't spoken for awhile now."

"From some time ago," Sanji started, unconsciously starting to stroke Zoro's hair a bit more quickly in nervousness.

Zoro glanced down at him, waiting for whatever he was about to say.

Sanji felt his cheeks grow hot, his confidence rapidly deflating. Anxiously, he averted his eyes from the swordsman's gaze.

"You... you're definitely the only one," Sanji said, stammering slightly.

"One what?"

Flustered, Sanji fidgeted. He knew it was vague, but he was frustrated that Zoro was actually going to make him explain it further; just saying those few words had been challenging enough.

"That shitty comment about a thousand women..." he muttered finally, feeling utterly defeated for having to say even that much.

He finally dared to look back at Zoro, just as the swordsman was glancing away, his face partially enshrouded in shadows. Sanji could not quite tell what kind of expression he was making, and he started to feel a wave of concern that maybe even now, he had said a bit too much.

"Is that so," Zoro finally replied, his voice subdued.

At first, the corner of Zoro's mouth jerked slightly as the swordsman obviously struggled to maintain his calm expression. But quickly, he was losing the struggle, as the corner started to turn upward even further until he finally had to give up. Grinning broadly and uncontrollably, he shifted his body slightly until his face was right in front of Sanji's.

"Well, then, ero-cook..." Zoro started, leaning in closer.

Sanji raised an eyebrow in question, his heart pounding a little bit quicker.

The swordsman leaned forward until his lips were right next to Sanji's ear. Softly, he whispered something that was almost completely inaudible—but somehow, the cook managed to catch every syllable.

Unable to help himself, Sanji chuckled, his cheeks suddenly slightly pinker. When Zoro pulled back enough for him to see his face, he saw that he was blushing, too.

"Idiot marimo," Sanji said, shaking his head.

"Dumbass cook," Zoro replied, grinning wider.

Although Sanji was curious to see where the slightly awkward, yet undeniably pleasant moment might have gone, the sound of something noisily clattering nearby made both men turned to the door that led back into the kitchen.

They gave each other a mutual look; there was only one person who would rummage through the kitchen like that. Reluctantly, they got up and started putting on their clothes so that Sanji could attend to their gluttonous captain's needs.

Before Sanji opened the door that led back into the kitchen, Zoro laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Hm?" he asked, turning about to look at him.

"Just so you know, I'm not done yet."

"Tch, like I would have thought you were," Sanji replied, brusquely shoving the rough hand off of him. "Just wait a damn minute and we'll go to bed."

"Ah," Zoro nodded, smirking in that haughty way that made Sanji feel like he wanted to knock him to the ground... although to be honest, if he did, he didn't think he would be able to leave it with just that anymore.

* * *

Clutching a rustic brass key in his hand, Sanji quickly headed toward the hotel's restaurant, searching for a glimpse of moss in the crowd as he puffed on a cigarette.

He finally spotted him, sitting at the bar with a drink in hand. As he drew nearer, however, he noticed that the man seated next to Zoro—a moderately handsome gentleman with stupidly perfect hair, wearing expensive clothes and extravagant jewelry—was animatedly talking to the swordsman, leaning in closer and closer as he spoke, casually touching Zoro on the arm as he laughed a bit too loudly at whatever nonsense was spewing out of his mouth.

Although Sanji could just barely see the side of Zoro's face, he noted the distinct twitching of an irritable brow as the strange man drew closer and closer.

Realizing the situation was a little nostalgic, a strange urge came over Sanji. Suppressing a grin, he boldly strode toward them. When he reached Zoro, he nodded a greeting, then turned toward Perfect-hair-man and blew out a long stream of smoke as he loftily regarded him.

"Ah, didn't know you were meeting friends here," the man said to Zoro. His eyes flickered toward Sanji for a moment. Then, he returned his gaze to Zoro, a fake smile plastered on his face. "Say, think your friend will mind if I borrow you for a little while? We were just having a nice chat, and I'd like to get to know you a little better, if you know what I—" he began, reaching out toward Zoro's arm again.

Sanji coolly stepped forward, brushing the stranger's hand aside, so that he never had the chance to feel the swordsman's bicep.

Wordlessly, the cook leaned against Zoro's body, his poise calm and casual, and he looked Perfect-hair-man dead in the eye.

As he spoke, Sanji delicately ran his fingers through Zoro's hair with an unmistakeable air of familiarity.

"Sorry, but it seems there's some kind of misunderstanding here. You see..." the blonde-haired man started, leaning down and smiling devilishly as he wrapped an arm around Zoro's neck while he pressed his body against his arm. "...He belongs to me."

Perfect-hair-man's face faltered for a moment. Quickly recovering, he smiled again, more repulsively this time, his eyes flicking back and forth between the two of them. "Well, if you'd prefer, you could both come and—"

"I wouldn't finish that thought, old man," Sanji interrupted, his expression quickly darkening. He purposefully tightened his grip around Zoro, turning his head so that his nose grazed the side of the swordsman's face. "You see," he continued, casting a sidelong glance at Perfect-hair-man as his lips nearly touched the other man's cheekbone, "I've never been very good at sharing my things."

Perfect-hair-man leaned back, sighing outwardly. "Alright, I see. I suppose I'll take my leave, then," he replied, rising from his seat. "But if you change your mind, I'll be around all night." Then, with a revolting wink, Perfect-hair-man excused himself and retreated to an open seat slightly farther along the bar.

"Why the hell did you do that?" Zoro asked, as Sanji took a seat in the now-empty seat next to him.

The cook shrugged lackadaisically. "I wanted to keep you out of trouble."

"Tch, I wasn't doing anything that would get me into trouble."

"Since when is that ever the case," Sanji muttered in reply.

"Tch," Zoro repeated, furrowing his brow as he took a swig from his glass. "So did you get a room?"

"Ah," Sanji nodded, tossing the key on the counter top. "Ready to go?"

"Let me finish my drink first."

"You're kidding."

Zoro glanced over at him. "It won't take me long to finish it."

"You'd rather finish your damn drink than... Tch, fine, hurry it up," the cook replied irritably, reaching forward to ash his cigarette in one of many ashtrays laid out on the bar.

True to his words, Zoro took a few more sips, and then downed the remainder when there was only a quarter of it left. "Alright, let's go, ero-cook."

As they passed the other side of the bar, where Perfect-hair-man was starting to chat up another young man seated by himself, Sanji glanced over and noticed they were being watched. He avariciously tucked his arm in the crook of Zoro's arm, smugly returning Perfect-hair-man's stare. As always, even as some of his attention was diverted elsewhere, he was still very much aware of the sensation of the excessively muscular bicep intertwined tightly with his own.

And then, they finally reached their room. Fidgeting to open the door with lustful hands groping at his body, already starting to unfasten buttons even though they were still outside the room, Sanji just barely managed to get the two of them inside and slam the door shut behind him.


End file.
